


There Are Wrecking Balls Inside Us

by emmerrr



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pining, Ronan-centric, and also i've fucked with the timeline to suit my own interests, as someone who almost exclusively writes fluff this is way out of my comfort zone, drinking as a coping mechanism, i hope it's not confusing, i'd like to add a slow burn tag but my self control is almost non existent so we'll see, the majority of the angst isn't pynch related though, this is an AU but with a lot of canon elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13431897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmerrr/pseuds/emmerrr
Summary: After the death of his father, Ronan Lynch finds his whole world ripped out from underneath him.Exiled from his home for reasons he doesn't understand and increased tensions with his brother who seems to know more than he's letting on, Ronan's just trying to make his way through the days as painlessly as possible.Grief, it turns out, is a long and rocky road.





	1. Prologue

The day of Niall Lynch’s funeral should not have been so picture perfect. The heavens should have been fucking weeping.

It was mid-spring, temperature at its optimum in terms of comfort, well before the stickiness and humidity of summer was due to arrive and linger for months. The sun was out and not a cloud was in sight, nothing but blue skies no matter which way Ronan tilted his head. Ideally, it was the kind of day that Ronan would spend outside, exploring with Gansey and Adam before heading home to play video games with his brothers and then have dinner with his family.

It was a beautiful, beautiful day. Spitefully so, because it was wrong. It added insult to injury.

Ronan almost felt that if he concentrated hard enough, he could will the storm-clouds in his mind into creation and crack the sky with thunder and lightning, something more appropriate for the occasion. But it wasn’t to be; the sun remained high in the sky and beating down onto the sleek black coffin within which the body of Ronan’s father now lay. Just his body, Ronan reminded himself. Niall’s soul wasn’t in there anymore.

The shine of the sun off the coffin was near blinding as it got lowered slowly into the ground, so much so that Ronan had to avert his eyes. It suited him just fine; he didn’t particularly want to watch anyway. In his mind, he was already far away from here. He was waiting for it all to be over so that later on he could break into his parents’ liquor cabinet, grab a bottle of something strong, and take it down to one of the fields. Then he could privately fall apart again like he’d been doing as many nights as he could get away with during the last two weeks since he had found his father’s dead body beaten and broken and half-hanging out of his BMW.

A BMW that Ronan had since taken.

For now, though, he stood—dry-eyed, like he’d been during the church service—with his arm wrapped around Matthew’s shoulder. His younger brother was crying tears of the silent kind, and Matthew allowed them to fall without a shred of self-consciousness. Admittedly there was no one present who could fault him for crying at his own father’s funeral, but the fact was that Matthew was a boy who allowed himself to feel things freely and openly anyway. A trait neither of his older brothers had an abundance of, except for where anger was concerned.

Speaking of the other Lynch brother, Ronan glanced to his left where Declan stood hand in hand with their mother. Aurora was beautiful and elegant as ever, golden hair blowing in the slight breeze. Her eyes were red-rimmed but her chin jutted out defiantly and no tears overflowed as she watched her husband get lowered into the ground.

It was on Declan, however, where Ronan’s attention caught. Because the look in Declan’s eyes wasn’t grief; not exactly. It was pure fury.

Ronan wasn’t sure who it was directed at.

The coffin passed below ground-level, at which point a half-choked sob caught in Matthew’s throat and he turned his face into Ronan’s shoulder. Ronan tugged him closer and murmured quiet, nonsensical assurances into his hair; platitudes that had long since lost all meaning, but that were soothing nonetheless. Matthew’s hand fisted in the back of Ronan’s suit jacket; Ronan hugged him properly.

Looking over Matthew’s head gave Ronan an unobstructed view of Adam and Gansey, who stood together but a little further away, a thoughtful buffer of space left between them and the inner circle of Niall’s family. Of the great many people who had been at the church service, Gansey and Adam were part of the select few who had come to the burial plot for this short, final part. Ronan knew it was for his sake and not Niall’s.

Gansey was wearing his glasses today and was appropriately sombre in his pristine black suit that made him look like he’d stepped right off the runway and into the cemetery. Adam, on the other hand, was in trousers that were just a touch too short, and over his white shirt and the black tie that he must have allowed Gansey to lend him, he wore his school blazer.

Adam’s brow was slightly furrowed, a little like it might be whilst he was working out a math problem, and on any other day Ronan probably would have tortured himself by staring for as long as he could get away with before Adam noticed. But not today. Not even Adam could distract him from the gravity of this particular day, which was ironic, really, as it was the only day that Ronan would really _welcome_ the distraction.

Anything but this.

Finally, blessedly, wretchedly, it was over. Other people started to trickle away and Ronan endured sympathetic pats to his shoulders without really being aware of who they were from. His arms were still locked around Matthew who was no longer shaking with sobs, but who made no move to let go either. Ronan wasn’t sure who was holding who up anymore.

“Ronan,” came Aurora’s gentle, broken voice a moment later, and he turned his head to face her. “It’s time to go. The wake. . .” she started, then trailed off.

He nodded, then let his mother gently coax Matthew away from him. She linked her arm through her youngest son’s and they started walking on ahead, two golden heads together.

Declan now stood opposite Ronan, his hands in his pockets, an expression Ronan couldn’t decipher on his face. He opened his mouth as if to say something when Gansey swooped in out of nowhere. “Declan,” he said warmly, and successfully diverted Declan’s attention away, as the two of them followed after Matthew and Aurora. Ronan was quietly grateful. Declan hadn’t been happy about Ronan taking the car, but he had also been strange in general since Niall’s death. Almost infuriatingly put together about the whole thing. Ronan couldn’t make sense of it.

“Hey,” Adam said, drawing level with Ronan. Ronan merely grunted back, but he kept pace with Adam as they, too, began walking back towards the church.

“Are you coming to the wake?” Ronan asked when the silence became too much, surprised by the hoarseness of his own voice.

“I, uh, I couldn’t get cover for work,” Adam said apologetically. “But I can just not go. Everyone else does it from time to time, it shouldn’t be a problem,” he added quickly, and when Ronan risked a glance, Adam looked incredibly earnest.

“Boyd’s or Noah’s?”

“Boyd’s,” Adam said.

Noah wouldn’t have a problem letting Adam off a shift with no notice. Boyd was another matter entirely, and Ronan knew all too well that Adam needed his jobs. All of them. “Nah, don’t worry, Parrish. Gansey’ll be there anyway.”

Adam opened his mouth, then closed it, then nodded. They were almost at the churchyard now, a straight shot from them to Adam’s beat-up old bicycle chained to the bike rail outside the St. Agnes office. There were only two cars left in the carpark now, one of which was Declan’s Volvo, where the Lynch family were currently waiting. Ronan waved them off; he’d catch a ride with Gansey, where the roar of the Camaro’s engine would drown out his thoughts.

“I better go then,” Adam said. He hesitated, then seemed to settle his resolve. “You know where to find me if you need anything. Anytime.”

Ronan swallowed thickly; he had to go. It was all too much. He nodded again, because nodding was the theme of the day. Nodding, and pats to the shoulder and, _“I’m so sorry for your loss”_ repeated over and over.

Ronan cleared his throat. “Later, Parrish.”

He got into Gansey’s car. They drove.

 

* * *

 

Ronan’s father hadn’t been in the ground a full three days when the letters arrived at the Barns.

Four envelopes, one for each of the remaining occupants. Each contained a copy of the last will and testament of Niall Lynch, made available to the remaining Lynches as heirs and beneficiaries.

Matthew didn’t bother reading his. “You can tell me all the important stuff,” he told Declan with a hollow shrug, then returned to the movie he was watching in the living room. Declan, for his part, disappeared into Niall’s old study with his own copy, shutting the door behind him.

Aurora sat at the kitchen table and read hers with a sort of blank, faraway expression on her face. She read it again. Then she folded it in half, put it back in the envelope, and sighed. “Oh, Niall. What did you do?” she said, but in the sort of way that made it clear she wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular. Then she went to her room to lie down.

Like his mother, Ronan read it through twice. His knowledge of legal jargon was limited, but even he didn’t think he was misunderstanding one vital part of the will. But understanding it and making any sense of it were two different things entirely. He barged into the study where Declan sat at the desk staring into space and slammed his letter down in front of him.

Declan startled and looked up at Ronan, who loomed over the desk.

“Have you read it yet?” Ronan demanded.

Declan blinked, but he didn’t need to ask what Ronan was talking about. “Yes,” he said evenly. “I’ve read it.”

“Tell me it doesn’t mean what I think it means.” Ronan flung himself into the seat opposite the desk and dropped his head into his hands. Declan didn’t immediately respond, but Ronan heard a crinkle of paper and guessed that Declan was looking at the letter again. It felt like a stall. Ronan could only stand it for a few seconds and he looked up sharply. “ _Dec_.”

“It means what you think it means,” Declan said at last, looking at some point over Ronan’s shoulder instead of his face.

“It can’t,” Ronan said immediately, even though Declan was only confirming what Ronan had already read for himself. “This is our _home_. Why the fuck would Dad write a clause in his will that we’re barred from our own fucking house?”

“I don’t know, Ronan, but he did.”

Ronan waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. He shrugged with as much disdain as he could muster. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say about it? What are we going to _do_?”

“I. Don’t. Know.” Each word was punctuated dangerously, like Declan was getting close to snapping. Good, Ronan thought.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ronan said, shaking his head. “We can contest this, surely. There’s no fucking way this can be upheld.”

“I assure you, it can,” Declan said. “It’s a legal fucking contract, Ronan, there’s no way around it.” His eyes flashed, the anger still there, but he was holding it at bay and Ronan still couldn’t understand why.

 _Dad died_ , he wanted to scream at his brother. _Dad died. React. React, you fucking prick._

But he didn’t say it; not this time at least. There was a more pressing problem.

“Why the fuck aren’t you panicking? If what you’re saying is true then we’re going to be fucking homeless? In case you haven’t fucking noticed?” he snapped instead, grief, confusion, and directionless anger all warring for dominance in his mind. Except no, not directionless. At Declan. Because Declan was the only one _here_.

“Oh, don’t overreact, we’re not going to be homeless. Or did you miss the part where we’ve also been left three million dollars each?” Ronan was too furious to respond, and Declan continued, “We’ll find a place to rent in Henrietta while you and Matthew finish school, then reassess from there.”

He threw it out so casually, like it was the most obvious next step in the world, like it wasn’t upending their lives once again immediately after they’d _already_ been upended. Ronan was struck, for the first time, with the idea that Declan might know something the rest of them didn’t.

He took the suspicion into his heart, let it harden, let it fill his voice with venom. “Fix it.”

Declan shrugged, exasperated. He lifted the letter again and skimmed the relevant passage, then shook his head and shrugged again, helplessly. “I _can’t_ ,” he said.

“You can,” Ronan replied. “I _know_ you can.”

“Jesus fucking—Ronan, listen to me, I really can’t.”

Ronan stood up so abruptly that the chair knocked back and fell over with a satisfying thud. He snatched his copy of the will off the table and pointed a finger at Declan. “Fix it,” he said again, already making his way to the door.

“Ah, _fuck_ , Ronan, you’re not hearing me—”

“If you don’t sort this out, I will never forgive you. I’ll never fucking forgive you for this.”

He slammed his way out of the study.

And then he slammed his way out of the house.


	2. Time takes it all, whether you want it to or not

Waking up was as abrupt as it was unwelcome.

It was the stark change that was most disorienting. Ronan was asleep, blissfully unaware, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t, and all sensation came flooding back. Head pounding, stomach churning, mouth dry and distinctly gross-feeling.

Ronan groaned and opened his eyes, and that was a mistake; the sun shining through the large window opposite burnt straight into his retinas, and he hissed and rolled over. His arm hit something warm and solid, and Ronan blinked a couple more times, confused.

“Good morning,” said Gansey.

Ronan shifted back again. He was in bed, under the covers, and Gansey was sitting next to him on top of the duvet, already dressed for the day and flipping through a book about UFO sightings.

“Why am I in your bed?” Ronan croaked out, and _fuck_ his throat hurt. Gansey put his book down and reached over to his bedside table, picking up a glass of water and holding it out to Ronan in offering. Ronan painstakingly sat up a little and took the water.

“When I got back last night I found you passed out on top of my bed. You were too heavy for me get you to your own room,” Gansey said with a shrug.

Ronan took a big gulp of water. “Did you—did you _tuck_ me in?”

“Of course I did, I’m not a barbarian, Ronan.”

“Aw. Thanks, Dick.”

“Hm,” Gansey hummed noncommittally, but there was a telltale crinkle of concern or disapproval (or both) between his eyebrows. It was a toss-up as to whether or not he would say something, but before he decided which way to go, his phone began to ring. Gansey pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered without checking the caller ID.

Ronan _always_ checked the caller ID. Calls from Matthew or his mom were the only ones Ronan would deign to answer in a timely manner, the rest tended to be ignored indefinitely.

“Hello?” Gansey said into the receiver, then his face brightened. It was Adam, then. “Adam, hi.”

Ronan leaned across Gansey to put the water back down then burrowed his way further into the covers, where he tried and failed not to listen to Gansey’s half of the conversation.

“I’m sorry, what?. . . I—yeah, the fees letter, I got one too.” Gansey gasped. “Oh, Adam, I never even thought. . . _what_ ? I don’t know what you’re talk— _no_ it wasn’t me, but. . .”

Ronan rolled out of bed and stumbled towards the kitchen/bathroom of Monmouth Manufacturing, letting Gansey’s confused indignation melt into the background. The day before, Ronan had given Mrs Ramirez at St. Agnes $2400 and asked her to tell Adam his rent was dropping by that much a year using whatever excuse sounded most realistic. It just so happened to be the exact amount that the school fees were due to be raised by come the start of the new school year. Judging by the phone-call, Adam had put two and two together and made five, figuring Gansey was the culprit.

Ronan could understand the leap. Off the cuff it was an easy and convenient one to make, but Ronan also knew that as soon as Adam had cooled off and allowed himself to think about it _logically_ , then he’d no doubt figure out that Ronan was behind the whole thing. Because of course he was; he was the one with ties to St. Agnes and no problem bribing church officials—especially considering they weren’t even losing out on anything. Adam would be able to cover both his rent and his school fees, all out of his own pocket, problem solved.

Adam deserved a break, was the thing, even if all he was going to do was bitch about it.

Ronan splashed some water on his face, feeling minimal relief from the coolness of it on his skin. It already felt like it had been summer for a thousand years, but as much as Ronan longed for the cooler weather he was also dreading what it represented: School.

If he had his own way, Ronan would not have been returning to Aglionby come the fall. Unfortunately, it was one of the caveats for Ronan being allowed to live with Gansey at Monmouth instead of in the apartment the rest of his family were now renting.

The apartment was only a couple of blocks away from Monmouth so it wasn’t as if Ronan had moved a state away. The original plan had been just to stay with Gansey for the summer, after which Declan was supposed to go off to college. However, for reasons unfathomable to Ronan, Declan had deferred for a year and would be staying in Henrietta instead.

Ronan outright refused to live with him.

So the compromise was school. Ronan had limped his way through finals, helped by the ‘special allowances’ awarded to him in light of his ‘difficult circumstances’. (The ‘difficult circumstances’ of course being that his dad had just been brutally murdered.) Now he was going to have to limp through his senior year as well, as soul-crushing as it undoubtedly would be. The alternative was living under the same roof as Declan and knowing that Aurora and Matthew would have to deal with the intense animosity that had been building between the elder Lynch brothers ever since Niall’s funeral. Ronan wasn’t prepared to put them through that.

He opened the fridge and pulled out an empty carton of orange juice. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, then put it back exactly where he found it, slamming the fridge shut and making all the shelves rattle. A long, drawn out sigh sounded from the next room and Ronan ascertained that the phone-call was now over. He trudged back over to Gansey.

“We’re out of orange juice.”

“There’s some in the fridge,” Gansey said distractedly.

Ronan shook his head, then winced at the throbbing in his temple. “It’s empty.”

“Hm? Oh, okay. We can get more.”

Ronan didn’t ask after Adam. Gansey was probably too annoyed at being incorrectly blamed for the supposed ‘handout’ to think it through properly at the moment, but Ronan felt sure that if he _did_ , he’d realise that it was Ronan’s doing. He didn’t really want to talk about it. Talking to anyone—particularly Gansey—about Adam was increasingly becoming a minefield that Ronan didn’t know how to navigate himself around.

Ronan wasn’t the only one who had been through an upheaval in the last few months.

A few weeks after Niall died, Robert Parrish had finally dealt his only child a permanent blow that had irreparably deafened Adam’s left ear. Ronan, in a rare night of sobriety, had given Adam a ride home and seen it happen through his rearview mirror. He quickly reversed, jumped out of the car, and promptly punched Adam’s father in the face.

After the scuffle that followed, he’d very nearly been arrested; handcuffs were in fact already around his wrists as he was pushed towards a police car, but then Adam had pressed charges. Just like that.

Adam was out of there—finally out— but it seemed to have cost him something important, and not just his hearing. Ronan hadn’t been there when Gansey had picked up Adam from the hospital, but he knew Gansey would have paid for Adam’s medical fees, and he knew Gansey would insist Adam come and live at Monmouth. It wasn’t the way Adam had wanted this to happen.

Needless to say, there was a considerable atmosphere between Adam and Gansey for a little while. Ronan mostly stayed out of it, which was easy enough to do when he spent alternate nights either getting blackout drunk, or racing Kavinsky and his cronies up and down the streets of Henrietta. In fact the only thing Gansey and Adam could really agree on during the couple weeks Adam stayed at Monmouth was how much they disapproved of Ronan’s actions.

Ronan happened to know that there was an unoccupied apartment above the office at St. Agnes, and so he went to see Mrs Ramirez and explained he had a friend in need of a place to live. Only when he had the go-ahead did he mention anything to Adam.

“It’s a shithole, but it’s cheap,” he said. “And it’s yours if you want it.”

Adam did.

And that was where they all found themselves now, a far cry away from where they’d been just a few short months before. It seemed unbelievable that it was even possible for so much earth-shattering change to occur so quickly, and yet here was the proof.

Ronan hated change.

“—put it on the shopping list,” Ronan heard Gansey say, and realised he’d zoned out.

“What?”

“The orange juice. I’ll put it on the shopping list and we can go to the store this afternoon.”

Ronan snorted derisively. “Hard pass.”

“See, you _say_ that, and you don’t come, and then you complain about what I get. If you come with me it can be a joint effort and everybody’s happy,” Gansey said patiently.

“What day is it?” Ronan asked abruptly.

Gansey frowned. “Seriously?”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “It’s _summer_ , all the days merge into one. Let’s not over-analyse this, Dick. What day is it?”

“It’s Friday,” Gansey said, but he didn’t look convinced by Ronan’s reasoning.

Declan worked an internship in D.C. on Fridays and Saturdays, which meant he wouldn’t be back in the new Lynch family apartment until late Saturday night.

“Then I can’t come grocery shopping with you. I’m gonna go see my mom.”

Gansey’s expression softened. “Yeah, alright. But at least help me with the list?”

“Chips. And cookies. And, fuck, I dunno, spinach? Whatever the fuck, Gansey, I don’t care.”

Gansey picked up his pen and a piece of paper that already contained a short list and he began to write, reading aloud with utter sincerity: “Chips. . . cookies. . . aaaand spinach. Sorted.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing particularly wrong with the apartment the Lynches were now renting, having been ousted from the Barns.

It was spacious, for starters. It was on one of the fancier streets in town; the interior was clean and modern and sparsely decorated. One of those ‘less is more’ kind of places. It was starkly different to the homely clutter of the Barns, which was precisely why Ronan hated it so much.

He had walked over from Monmouth, not quite feeling steady enough to drive and reasoning that the fresh air would (in theory) do him good. In reality, the ‘fresh’ air was muggy and humid and he regretted his decision almost immediately. The black sleeveless tee and black jeans weren’t exactly helping.

Ronan arrived at the apartment and let himself in with the key Aurora had given him. “Mom?” he called out as soon as he was inside. There was no immediate reply and Ronan’s heartbeat quickened. “Mom?”

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetheart,” she finally called back. Much like Matthew was the only one who could call Ronan pal, Aurora was the only one who could call Ronan sweetheart.

Declan used to call him bro.

Ronan toed out of his sneakers and padded through to the kitchen. His mother stood at the breakfast bar arranging a colourful bouquet of flowers into the vase in front of her. She looked up and smiled at Ronan when he entered the room, but he still noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Aren’t they pretty? Matthew got them for me. Such a thoughtful boy.”

“Isn’t he just,” Ronan said. “Where is he, anyway?”

“You just missed him actually, he’s gone to meet some friends.”

“Where?”

“The lake, I think? I’m sure he mentioned something about a yacht.”

Ronan snorted but took his phone out of his pocket and fired off a quick text to his little brother.

\- **wear a fuckin life jacket**

\- _y?_

\- **safety first**

\- _u got it pal_

When he glanced back up again from his phone, his mother was looking at him intently. Or rather she was looking at the side of his neck, where the tattoo he had gotten shortly after Niall’s death was just creeping out from under his collar.

“Are you ever going to let me see the whole thing?” she asked softly.

Ronan had designed the tattoo that took up the entire expanse of his back by himself after many a sleepless night. He just took everything in his head and put it down on paper and knew immediately that he needed it with him always. It cost $900 and was the subject of one of the bigger fights Declan and Ronan had had. Aurora had been quietly accepting of the whole thing, perhaps understanding why Ronan had needed to do it.

He’d never shown anyone the tattoo in its entirety, with the exception of Gansey who dutifully applied the healing tattoo lotion for him given he couldn’t reach everywhere on his own. Ronan himself had only seen it once, after it was first finished. Much to his chagrin, he desperately wanted to show Adam, but so far Adam had declined to ask, and whipping his shirt off for the hell of it seemed excessive.

Now, though, Ronan shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. He took a seat at the breakfast bar. “Maybe.”

Aurora took that as the ‘not today’ it was and nodded. “Coffee?”

“Nah. Do you have any juice? Or aspirin?”

“Oh, Ronan. You were drinking last night, weren’t you?”

Ronan didn’t lie but that didn’t mean he had to answer, either. Aurora sighed but she got him some water and some aspirin which he gratefully took, and then she poured him a glass of orange juice. He sipped at it while Aurora started making her coffee.

She started humming to herself, and Ronan closed his eyes. It was only too easy to imagine being a world away from this reality, back at home, where he’d hear his mother hum this same song while she worked. If Niall was home he’d start to sing along, and then she’d laugh and they’d dance around the kitchen.  

Ronan _ached_. He’d always known, objectively, that grief would be horrifyingly sad, even if it wasn’t something he’d ever envisioned experiencing—at least not for a very long time. But now he had, and he hadn’t been prepared for how much it would physically _hurt_.

It was constant. A constant pain, an unyielding weight on his chest. He had to remind himself to breathe.

Ronan opened his eyes again; took in his surroundings. Not the Barns. Decidedly not the Barns.

“Sweetheart?” Aurora said, and he forced himself to focus on her. When he did, she smiled sadly. “There’s my boy. Where did you go?”

Ronan reached his hand across the table and covered Aurora’s with his own. “Home,” he said. “I went home.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan spent a couple of hours with Aurora. They talked about anything but Niall or Declan, which pretty much meant they talked about Matthew; he was by far the safest subject, not to mention the pride and joy of all the remaining Lynches.

Ronan let his mother show him her makeshift workshop (which would have been Ronan’s room had he moved in with them), in which there were various homemade cosmetics and candles, soaps and lotions. It was a fairly new hobby, no doubt coming about from a desperate need for Aurora to keep her brain busy. Ronan could relate, except his hobbies were decidedly less wholesome.

He hoped she wouldn’t ask anymore about the drinking, because again, he didn’t want to lie, but he also knew that it was somewhat of a bigger issue than she realised. The problem was that Ronan had for months now been plagued by nightmares—the only time they didn’t come was when he was too shit-faced to dream. So he either drank until he passed out, or he didn’t sleep at all.

It was lose-lose.

He left the apartment in the mid-afternoon with a promise he’d pop in again soon. The street was empty when he stepped outside, but after walking a few steps, Ronan had—and not for the first time—the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched. He did a full one-eighty, looking at all the windows. There was nothing and no one, and Ronan shook off the suspicion. His father being murdered had made him somewhat paranoid; an understandable side-effect.

Ronan didn’t particularly want to go back to Monmouth yet so instead he went the opposite way, with no real destination or agenda in mind until he realised his feet had walked him right to St. Agnes.

It was almost comical really, even if it was a useless endeavour. Ronan could see from here that Adam’s bike wasn’t there, and aside from that he knew already that Adam was working this afternoon.

Ronan’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out to see a new message from Gansey.

\- _Nino’s at 5ish? I’ll pick up Parrish after his shift. See you there?_

Ronan didn’t bother replying but he most definitely would be there, even if it was just to witness Gansey’s bumbling efforts to talk to the waitress who so clearly couldn’t stand the sight of him. Plus Ronan wasn’t exactly up for denying himself the opportunity to spend any and all available time in Adam’s company.

Ronan returned his phone to his pocket and gave the church itself an appraising look. He didn’t particularly think he’d find any comfort in there today so instead he walked past, aiming to loop back round and take himself back to Monmouth in a large circle. He stalled when he started passing by the cemetery, because he could hear an incessant high-pitched chirping. Muffled, but still very much audible.

He frowned and doubled back, entering the gate and stepping inside the graveyard. Not too far from the entrance was a large tree, and Ronan followed the sound to the base of it. On the ground next to the tree-trunk and half hidden by a nest that must have been knocked down from a higher branch, was a teeny, tiny, baby bird. Probably no more than a few days old.

Not just any baby bird.

A _raven_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is a stephen king quote from the green mile. deciding to name the chapters could be a Mistake as it means i've got to find one for all of them, so we shall see how this goes!
> 
> this is a fast update but from here on out i'll probably update weekly. and it's tuesday today so let's just say tuesdays? again, we'll see how this goes, there's a very good chance that i get a lot done and then have a good buffer of chapters, in which case i may be able to do twice weekly. i tend to get excited when i finish chapters and want to post them IMMEDIATELY but i'm gonna try and be sensible.
> 
> anyway, comments and kudos are always appreciated, thank you kindly :)


	3. between the shadow and the soul

In the centre of Henrietta was a comic book store that doubled as a record store, that also sold posters and stickers and various accessories. It was called Cabeswater Comics Emporium, and Ronan _loved_ it.

It was kitsch and jumbled and it shouldn’t have worked as a cohesive business but somehow it _did_ , and Ronan had wiled away many an afternoon browsing the shelves or sitting in the reading nook in the corner flipping through comic books and manga. The numerous leather bands that lined Ronan’s wrists had all been bought at Cabeswater.

The fact that one of Adam’s part-time jobs was as a shop assistant there was just a bonus, really.

This time, though, bothering Adam at work was not the highest on Ronan’s list of priorities. Cabeswater was closer than Monmouth, and Ronan was carrying precious cargo in a broken nest which was losing stability by the second. He needed a sturdier form of transport to carry the tiny raven he had found.

Leaving her behind hadn’t been an option Ronan had wasted any time considering. He wasn’t sure how the nest had ended up on the ground, where her siblings were (if she even had any), or what had happened to her parents, but the sorry state of the nest surely wasn’t a good sign. Thanks to the racket the raven chick was making, it undoubtedly wouldn’t have been long before a predator of some sort—a cat or another bird maybe—came to investigate.

So Ronan had made some soothing noises, gently scooped the little bird onto the larger piece of the broken nest, and then lifted them up. He held the nest close to his chest with one hand and shielded the raven from the harsh sun with the other, then started to walk, humming a song as he went.

After a couple of minutes the raven stopped chirping and instead took to staring curiously up at Ronan. He decided there and then he would do anything to protect this tiny creature.

When Ronan reached Cabeswater, he used his shoulder to push the door open and started carefully making his way over to the counter.

“What have you got there, Lynch?”

Ronan looked up. Adam sat behind the counter, pen in hand and a pile of some sort of paperwork before him. He didn’t look even remotely surprised to see Ronan, but he was eying Ronan’s armful with faint curiosity.

Ronan smiled involuntarily as he got to the counter and carefully put down the nest and its passenger, who chose that moment to start chirping again.

“It’s a bird,” Adam said with absolutely no inflection.

“She’s a raven,” Ronan said. “I found her.”

“Where?”

Ronan hesitated. “St. Agnes. Under that tree just inside the cemetery.”

If Adam wondered what Ronan had been doing there, he didn’t ask, and instead leaned closer to inspect the raven. “She’s _tiny_ , Ronan,” he whispered, as if wary of frightening her. “What happened?”

Ronan shrugged. “Possum maybe? A bigger bird? The nest was on the ground, this one was hidden underneath it screaming bloody murder. No sign of her parents.” He shrugged again. “Couldn’t just fuckin’ leave her.”

“Mm,” Adam agreed, and while he watched her, Ronan took the opportunity to watch Adam. He was looking for any trace of Adam’s earlier argument on the phone with Gansey, or if Adam had figured out the truth about the rent yet. But there was no sign of anything, and if a Nino’s trip had been agreed upon then Gansey and Adam had most likely made up already.

But Ronan wasn’t going to ask, and the odds of Adam bringing it up himself were slim to none.

“What is that _unholy_ noise?” a voice came from behind them, and Ronan turned to see Noah Czerny, owner and manager of Cabeswater, walking out of the back room. His expression brightened when he saw Ronan. “Ronan! Is it you?”

Noah was twenty-something and still dressed like a skater boy from the mid-2000s. His white-blonde hair was more often than not under a trucker hat, and the music he played on the overhead speakers in Cabeswater was almost _always_ Blink-182. Despite all of that, he was impossible not to like; he had such an easy and agreeable manner about him that Ronan knew he’d keep coming back here even if Adam _wasn’t_ an employee.

“It’s his new friend,” Adam told Noah, indicating the nest.

Noah joined Adam behind the counter and looked down at the squawking little thing. He gasped almost reverently as he bent down to get a closer look. “Aw, baby!” The raven gawked at Noah before returning her attention to Ronan, and Ronan gently stroked his pinky down her back.

“Look at that, she’s imprinted on you,” Adam said thoughtfully, which made Ronan grin.

Noah on the other hand, said, “Ha, she looks like a little alien.”

“Rude,” Ronan said. “She’s beautiful, aren’t you, you little turd?” He cooed at her.

Noah smirked and stood back up straight, crossing his arms as he gave Ronan a knowing look. “Ah well, a mother’s love is blind, I suppose.”

“Fuck off.”

“Language. There’s an infant present.” Before Ronan had a chance to respond, Noah continued. “And speaking of said infant, is there a reason you’ve brought her here?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ronan said. “I need a favour. Have you got a box I can put her in to carry her back to Monmouth? I need something a bit more secure.”

“Should have something in the back that’ll do,” Noah said. “Anything else?”

“Could you watch her for a little bit while I get some supplies?” Ronan aimed this part at Adam.

“I’m at work, Ronan.”

“There’s no one fucking here.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?” Ronan indicated the paperwork in front of Adam. “What is that, homework? It’s summer, Parrish, how the fuck do you have homework?”

“That’s _my_ homework, actually,” Noah cut in with a smile. “Adam’s filling in my order forms for me.”

“Because you always over-order,” Adam said, rubbing his eyes with exasperation.

“I know, I do. I really do. You’re so much better at this stuff than I am,” Noah said. He looked at Ronan. “Did you know he did my taxes for me this year?”

“Which begs the question, what are you going to do without me when I’m at college?”

Noah shrugged. “Shrivel and die?”

Adam shook his head but his slight smile betrayed his fondness, and Ronan quietly marveled at their easy camaraderie that clearly came from knowing each other a long time. He also swallowed down hard on the jarring reminder that another ending was in sight. They hadn’t yet started senior year, but the countdown had already begun for Adam to leave, and in all likelihood, Gansey as well. And once they were gone. . . ?

Ronan didn’t really want to think about it.

He cleared his throat. “So are you gonna fuckin’ watch her or not.”

“ _Yes_ , Ronan, I’m obviously gonna watch her,” Adam said.

Noah jerked his head over his shoulder. “Take her in the back, there’s some empty boxes in the store room. And you can sit with her in my office until Ronan gets back. I’ll watch the shop floor.”

Adam held his hands together expectantly and Ronan gently lifted the broken nest with the baby raven still on top into Adam’s hands. Already he was reluctant to leave her. Already it felt like handing away a piece of his heart, and Ronan tried to ignore the fact that it was _Adam_ he was handing it to; it seemed like a dangerous road to travel down.

She started chirping again almost immediately and Adam looked down at her, bemused.

“Better hurry, Lynch. I think she’s hungry.”

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later at Nino’s, Ronan announced, “Her name’s Chainsaw.”

“Oh no,” Gansey groaned. “No, Ronan, don’t name her. Once you name her, you become attached to her, and then. . .” He trailed off with a sigh; that ship had most definitely already sailed.

“ _Chainsaw_. That’s so typically you, Ronan,” Adam said dryly.

It _was_ typically Ronan, and he was inordinately pleased that Adam had pointed it out.

Ronan had spent the afternoon giving himself a brief masterclass of baby raven care—the internet really was a wonderful place—and Chainsaw had now been fed and made comfortable in a box in the corner of Ronan’s room. At some point he’d have to get her something more suitable, but it would do in a pinch. For now, Chainsaw was sleeping, but she’d need feeding again in a couple of hours. Ronan had been clock watching since he had arrived, just so he wouldn’t be late back.

Gansey and Adam had got to Nino’s before Ronan, and he found them in their usual booth. He was loathe to admit they were the kind of people who had a usual booth, but it was undoubtedly true. It was Gansey’s fault; he was the reason they were here so much.

For weeks now, he’d been mooning over one of the waitresses, despite the fact that she never treated them with anything other than disdain.

She came over to their table now holding a tray containing a jug of iced tea and three glasses. She didn’t _quite_ slam the jug onto the table, but it was a near thing. Once her tray was empty, she tucked it under her arm and took a notepad and pen out of the pocket of her apron.

“You ready to order yet?” she asked.

Gansey was smiling up at her. “Oh, just the usual, I think,” he said brightly.

The waitress stared at him silently, and Gansey just kept grinning like a buffoon. “Which is?” she eventually asked imperiously.

“Oh,” Gansey laughed lightly. “I thought you’d have known the order by now, we’re in here enough.”

Adam subtly cleared his throat, which was clearly a warning for Gansey that he’d _perhaps_ misstepped, but Gansey didn’t seem to notice.

The waitress was practically bristling, but Gansey was oblivious; Ronan couldn’t believe Gansey hadn’t sensed the danger radiating off the waitress in waves, but he grinned. He stretched an arm out along the back of the booth (behind Adam, who didn’t shy away—he never shied away) and settled in for the show. This should be good.

“This is a busy place,” the waitress said icily. “Excuse me if I haven’t memorised the order of every single white boy with daddy’s credit card who comes in here. You all look the same to me.”

“I—well—” Gansey spluttered, half-offended, half-speechless. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” he finally got out. “I just assumed, my mistake.”

“Yes it is your mistake. You say you come in that often, do you even know my _name_?”

Gansey’s eyes immediately flickered to her name-tag, which she clapped a hand over as soon as she realised.

“It’s Jane,” Gansey said triumphantly.

“It’s _not_ —” She looked down and twisted the name-tag so she could see it properly. Then she practically deflated. “Well, this isn’t mine.”

There was a pause, then Gansey said in a small voice, “That’s hardly _my_ fault.”

“Okay, fine, but the point remains that you didn’t know it and yet you expected me to know your order off by heart.”

Gansey gaped for a moment, wilting under her heavy stare, and then Adam quietly rattled off their order, which she jotted down before turning away.

She hesitated, then looked over her shoulder. “For future reference, it’s Blue.”

Gansey frowned, confused. “What is?”

“My _name_ ,” she snapped.

“Oh— _oh_ _!_ Well I’m Gansey, and this is Ronan, and Adam. Blue! What a lovely name. It’s. . . quaint.”

Adam put his head in his hands. “Gansey, for the love of god, stop _talking_ ,” he mumbled.

Blue glared at Gansey for another few seconds, but she also sort of looked like she wanted to laugh, and then she just nodded and stomped off towards the kitchen.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Ronan burst into cackles of laughter. “Dick! That was a _trainwreck_ _!_ ”

“It could have been worse,” Gansey grumbled.

“Yes, it could. She could have punched you,” Adam said.

“See? There’s my silver lining.” Gansey beamed at Adam. The smile slipped a little. “Although, she doesn’t seem all that fond of us, does she?”

Adam shrugged. “We’re Aglionby. She hates us on principle.”

“How does she know we’re Aglionby?”

Ronan laughed sharply. “Gansey, never has there more obviously been an Aglionby boy than you.”

“ _Hey_. What about Tad Carruthers?”

“. . . That’s fair,” Ronan acquiesced, because he’d forgotten about Tad. He tended to forget about Tad every time Tad wasn’t directly in his line of sight. “Second most, then.”

Gansey looked like he was going to try and argue the point but then he seemed to decide the better of it. He stared off in the direction Blue had headed and sighed dreamily. It took real effort for Ronan not to roll his eyes.

“Still, at least we’re on a first name basis now. That’s progress. Blue.” He chuckled. “Such an odd name.”

Adam balled up his napkin and threw it at Gansey; it bounced off his nose. “She’s very cute but clearly very angry. You probably shouldn’t go around saying her name is odd. Especially somewhere where she might _hear_ you.”

“You think she’s cute?” Ronan interjected without meaning to.

Adam’s cheeks pinked slightly and he averted Ronan’s gaze. “I’ve got eyes, Ronan.”

“Huh,” Ronan said. He removed his arm from the back of the booth and crossed his arms instead, his mood suddenly souring. A silence befell the table but Gansey soon broke it, asking something about Adam’s work schedule for the next week. Adam eagerly accepted the subject change, and after a few minutes Ronan also allowed himself to be roped back into the conversation.

Once they’d eaten, Ronan left Nino’s before Adam and Gansey. Every time Blue had returned to their table, Gansey had practically fallen over himself trying to be as polite as possible, and Blue seemed more and more perturbed every time, like she couldn’t decide if Gansey was fucking with her or if he was just that affable all the time.

Honestly, it would have warmed Ronan to her if it wasn’t for Adam admitting he thought she was cute.

It didn’t matter; thinking someone was cute wasn’t a fucking admission of love, it wasn’t based on anything important and Ronan was well aware of that. And even if it was, whoever Adam may or may not have been romantically interested in wasn’t his business. Except that Ronan really _wanted_ it to be his business. He wanted it to be his _personal_ business, because he wanted it to be _him_.

Fuck it all.

So he left the others his share of the bill (plus a little extra) on the table and slunk out into the night, hopping in the BMW and driving back to Monmouth as fast as he could get away with.

Back in his room he went straight to Chainsaw, who started yelling as soon as she spotted him. Ronan shushed her gently and then fed her again.

She quietened down once she’d eaten her fill, and Ronan put her down while he got changed. He’d already decided he was now in for the night, no matter how tempting it might be to go out and find some trouble on the streets in the early hours. He stripped out of his jeans and grabbed an old pair of grey sweatpants from a chest of drawers—a pair that he was pretty sure used to be Declan’s—and then he yanked his tank top off and threw it in his laundry basket.

His rucksack was tucked away in the corner and Ronan fished his headphones out of the front pocket, then plugged them into his phone. He wrapped the headphones around his neck and then pressed play on one of his techno mixes—the one Gansey always insisted made his ears bleed—and turned the volume up loud so that he could hear it without actually putting the headphones over his ears. Then he scooped Chainsaw back up again and sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against his bed.

Chainsaw shuffled around in his hands a little, taking in her surroundings, cocking her head to the side as she looked at Ronan, presumably because she could hear the music but wasn’t sure of the source.

“Don’t you dare shit in my hands,” Ronan grumbled at her, and Chainsaw chirped as if to say _what are you going to do about it?_

It wasn’t long until Ronan heard the Camaro pull into the Monmouth parking lot, but it soon became clear that Gansey wasn’t alone, as two different sets of footsteps entered the living space. A moment later there was a knock at Ronan’s door.

“It’s open,” he said flatly. It creaked open and Ronan felt of flicker of surprise that it was Adam and not Gansey hovering over the threshold.

Adam held up a small takeout box in one hand. “We got you some pie. If you’re interested.”

Ronan looked at Adam. Adam looked back, and Ronan was suddenly aware that he was still shirtless. Adam must have noticed but his expression remained unreadable.

“Yeah, alright, Parrish. I could eat some fucking pie,” Ronan said, and jerked his head in invitation. Adam stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him. Ronan stood up and put Chainsaw back in her box. Thanks to the peculiar layout of Monmouth, Ronan was fortunate enough to have a sink in his room, and he washed his hands thoroughly. Back at his bed, Ronan reached under his pillow and pulled out a baggy sleep shirt, yanking it over his head and hoping Adam wouldn’t think anything of it.

He took the box Adam offered to him and sat on his bed and leaned against the wall, digging into the apple pie he’d been bought. “Who’d I owe for this?” he asked through a mouthful.

Adam shook his head. “You already left extra on the table. You’re covered.”

“That was for a tip. For your waitress.”

Adam rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed, peering in at Chainsaw. “That’s _Gansey’s_ waitress not mine, who also has a name which we now know, and who also would probably castrate us for referring to her as _anyone’s_ waitress,” he said. “Besides, Gansey already made sure he left Blue a very generous tip.”

Ronan snorted. “I’m sure he did,” he said, but he felt better, somehow.

“How is she anyway?” Adam asked. “Chainsaw, I mean.” He smiled slightly when he said her name.

“She’s good, I think. Eats a lot. Noisy little shitsack,” Ronan said. “I’ll need to get her something a bit more permanent to keep her in when I’m out, just ‘til she’s a bit bigger.”

Adam nodded thoughtfully, then he let out a little huff of laughter.

“What?” Ronan asked, but Adam shook his head. Ronan nudged Adam’s thigh with his foot. “Fucking _what_ , Parrish.”

“Nothing,” Adam said, then he shrugged and caved. “It just. . . it makes sense, that’s all.”

“What does?”

“Ronan Lynch. Skipper of classes, racer of cars, saviour to baby corvids.”

A slow smile spread across Ronan’s face. “Everyone’s got their hobbies, Parrish.”

 

* * *

 

 

Adam left shortly afterwards; Gansey took him home.

Ronan headed to the kitchen/bathroom before Gansey got back and rifled through the fridge to see what Gansey had picked up when he was grocery shopping. He was pleased to note a fresh carton of orange juice had taken the place of the empty one, and he let out an amused snort when he spotted a bag of spinach all on its own in the vegetable drawer.

In the back of the fridge and almost hidden by a surprisingly vast selection of condiments were a few bottles of beer, that had been on the shelf inside the door as recently as this morning. Gansey had obviously moved them, perhaps in the hope that if they were more difficult to get to then Ronan might rethink drinking them.

Ronan knew it wouldn’t stop him if he was really in the mood, but he could at least go without for tonight. Chainsaw would need frequent feeds, which meant that Ronan could merely catnap in between. Hopefully he’d never fall into a deep enough sleep to dream.

He could reassess later if that turned out not to be the case.

Ronan headed back to his room and brushed his teeth, feeling fairly certain that he wouldn’t need to leave his room again for the rest of the night. Leftover exhaustion from the night before meant he fell asleep before Gansey got back, and Chainsaw’s chirps woke him before his alarm did a couple of hours later.

He fed her again, all the while singing her the song Aurora had been humming when he’d seen her earlier; it had been in his head ever since. Once Chainsaw was happy, Ronan cleaned up some of the mess she’d made in the box then washed his hands several times. “You,” he told her, “are disgusting.”

As he settled himself back into bed listening to Chainsaw shuffling about, it occurred to Ronan that this had been the closest thing to a good day he could remember having since his father had died. It was sad to think that it had been that long, but it was a step in the right direction. And maybe tomorrow would be even better.

Cautiously comforted by the thought, Ronan closed his eyes.

And then, of course, his phone began to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from sonnet xvii by pablo neruda (100 love sonnets)
> 
> kudos/comments are great motivators if you liked it! :)


	4. Home is such a lonely place without you

One missed call. Two. Three.

Ronan watched them all flash up on his phone, Declan’s name blaring obnoxiously across the screen. Each time Ronan let it ring out, and when it started again he allowed himself some grim satisfaction at how pissed off he would be making his brother.

But if Declan could ruin Ronan’s day without even being here, then Ronan could sure as shit do the same to Declan.

After the seventh time Ronan let the call go unanswered, a text message came through.

\- _come on ronan, answer the fucking phone_

Two more missed calls.

\- _it’s important_

It always _was_ important with Declan, but still, he was calling from D.C. at one o’clock in the morning on a Saturday, when he’d be back in Henrietta within 24 hours anyway. He’d see Ronan at St. Agnes on Sunday and could tell him whatever it was then, when Ronan couldn’t escape.

If it was _that_ important that it couldn’t wait. . .

Ronan sighed as his phone started to ring again, and Chainsaw made a noise that Ronan interpreted as irritation—or as close as a baby raven could come to the concept of irritation—and it was this that made him finally answer.

“ _What?_ ” he snapped into the receiver.

“Was that so difficult?” Declan replied snidely, because he never could fucking resist.

“If saying it was important was just a fucking ploy to get me to answer the phone then I’m hanging up now and never answering to you ever again, so I hope it was fucking worth it, dickhead,” Ronan said.

“Wait, wait,” Declan said hurriedly. “Don’t hang up, it _is_ important.”

Ronan took a deep breath and waited.

“Did you see Mom today?”

Already, Ronan’s limited patience was waning. This felt like smalltalk, which he didn’t do. Especially not with Declan. He hoped there was a point to this line of questioning. “Yeah, I stopped by earlier. Why?”

“Did you notice anything. . . weird? Around the apartment?”

“What, like inside?”

“Outside. Was there anyone loitering around? Anything. . . suspicious?”

Ronan’s blood ran cold. “Jesus fuck, Declan, _should_ there have been?” He remembered the prickling feeling of being watched outside the apartment, brushed aside and blamed on his paranoia.

“No, no, course not,” Declan said in his best reassuring voice. It didn’t work. “I dunno. Just—you haven’t seen anything then? Nothing worth mentioning?”

“Declan, what the fuck’s going on,” Ronan said lowly, dangerously. “Why would you think someone would be watching us?”

“I don’t, I don’t, just. . . Look, just forget I said anything. I’m just—” He broke off, sighing. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Declan certainly _sounded_ tired, but that didn’t mean Ronan could easily forget what he’d just been asked. “You’re creeping me the fuck out, Declan, where’s this coming from?” Chainsaw let out a high-pitched shriek and Ronan leaned forward to stroke a careful finger over her head to soothe her.

“The fuck was that?” Declan asked.

“Chainsaw,” Ronan said bluntly.

“A _chainsaw?_ ”

“No. Chainsaw. She’s my baby raven.”

“Your—your baby raven. Right, of course. God,” Declan scoffed, tone almost half-delirious. Forget tired, he sounded _exhausted_.

“I asked you a question and you’re changing the fucking subject,” Ronan reminded his brother.

The silence that followed was heavy and loaded, until Declan broke it with yet another drawn out sigh. “It doesn’t matter, Ronan, I already said, I’m just tired and being stupid. Look, I’ll see you on Sunday. Just. . . keep an eye out, yeah?”

“For _what?_ ” Ronan snapped.

“And stay out of trouble. I mean it.” There was a click and the line went dead, and Ronan was left to mull over his brother’s ominous words as well as their casual dismissal.

There was little sleep to be had for the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan didn’t leave his bedroom until around ten o’ clock the following morning. Gansey was sitting cross-legged on the floor, adding to his cardboard model of a Henrietta in miniature. This likely meant he’d had a sleepless night, too, and Ronan sort of wished he’d known. Shared insomnia somehow made things easier.

“Mornin’,” Ronan grunted on his way past to the kitchen.

“Morning. You know, I find it hard to believe that something so small could possibly make as much noise as that bird of yours, but here we are,” Gansey said, his tone dry.

“She’s a baby,” Ronan reasoned. “Babies cry.”

“Hm.”

Ronan took a moment to watch his friend. Gansey wasn’t even looking up, his attention on the glue he was carefully squeezing along the length of an old cereal box. It was hard to tell if he was legitimately annoyed about Chainsaw’s noise or if he was merely making an observation. “I’ll get you some earplugs.”

Gansey did look up now, catching Ronan’s eye and smiling. “Really?”

“Fucking— _yes_ , if it’s bothering you. Can’t have anything interfering with your beauty sleep.”

“Quite right,” Gansey said matter-of-factly, dropping his gaze again, although the smile remained.

Ronan showered quickly and then returned to his room to get dressed and feed Chainsaw again. Afterwards, he lifted her up and carried her out into the main room to give her a little change of scenery.

He sat on the floor next to Gansey and put Chainsaw down to explore the model Henrietta. She shuffled from side to side with what limited movement she currently had, looking back to Ronan every so often as if to check he was still there.

Gansey watched her. “I can’t work out if she’s really cute or really ugly. She’s both, somehow.”

“Hey man, she can fucking hear you,” Ronan said, offended on Chainsaw’s behalf.

“She doesn’t seem too concerned.”

Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps outside and Ronan, Gansey and Chainsaw’s heads all immediately looked to the door.

“Are we expecting company?” Gansey said, more to himself than Ronan, because Ronan was _never_ expecting company. He tended to go out and find it instead.

Ronan scooped Chainsaw back up and put one hand over her to soothe her, just as a booming knock sounded at the door.

Gansey and Ronan exchanged a confused look.

“Who is it?” Gansey called politely.

“It’s me!” a voice called back, and all of Ronan’s apprehension evaporated.

“It’s open, Matthew,” he yelled, and the door jiggled open to admit Matthew Lynch. He wasn’t alone, and Ronan smiled at the second visitor. “Hi, Mom.”

“Good morning, boys,” Aurora said brightly. She had two Tupperware boxes in her arms, and Matthew held one as well in the hand he hadn’t used to get the difficult door to Monmouth open.

“What’s in the boxes?” Gansey asked. “It smells amazing.”

“Muffins,” said Matthew. “Lots and lots of muffins.”

“I went a little overboard,” Aurora admitted with a sheepish smile. Ronan caught Matthew’s eye and a wordless exchange went on between the brothers. Ronan got the impression that there were probably many more muffins still back at the apartment.

Aurora had always been a proficient baker, but it had taken a turn for the excessive in her grief. Ronan hadn’t worked out if it was a problem yet. It was a coping mechanism, probably. It stopped her sleeping, definitely. But then again if she was already going to be awake, then wasn’t it better that she was doing something productive rather than popping pills or drinking or just staring into space?

Ronan worried, sure. But he couldn’t exactly talk; it would make him a grade A hypocrite.

“Breakfast,” he said now, instead. “Good timing, family.”

Aurora and Matthew put the muffins down on the counter and Ronan stood, heading over to investigate. Chainsaw chirped softly as the movement jostled her and both his mother and brother turned to the source of the sound.

“Ronan?” Aurora asked.

“This,” he said, opening his hands to show her, “is Chainsaw.”

Matthew gasped and held his own hands out. “Can I?”

Ronan nodded. “Be gentle, though, Matty. She’s only small.” He carefully placed Chainsaw in his brother’s cupped hands, and made a little reassuring noise when she gawked between Ronan and Matthew.

“When did you find her, Ronan?” This was Aurora again, but Ronan didn’t take his eyes from Chainsaw. Seeing Matthew interact with a baby animal immediately took Ronan back to his childhood around the farm when Matthew had been very young and had to be reminded not to squeeze too tightly when there were kittens or baby mice to play with. It perhaps wasn’t entirely fair to still keep so close an eye; Matthew wasn’t a child anymore and didn’t need a reminder, but old habits tended to die hard.

“Yesterday. After I left you.”

“Was she alone?”

“Yep. All alone.”

Chainsaw squawked and Matthew giggled. “Here, pal, you can have her back.”

Ronan accepted her then turned around and headed for his bedroom to put her back in her box. Soft footfalls behind him told him Aurora was following him. She watched him settle Chainsaw back down in the box.

“Oh, you can’t keep her in that, sweetheart,” Aurora said.

“I know, I’m gonna get her something better today.”

Aurora nodded, then she smiled wistfully. “I remember,” she said pensively, “the last time you brought a bird home.”

Ronan did not remember this at all. “What?”

“You were about. . . oh, five or six, probably. You and Declan were out playing in one of the fields, and you found what you thought was an injured blackbird on the ground. You picked it up and ran back to the house, all stricken, and you asked me to take it to the vets. I had to tell you that it was too late; the bird was already dead. Its neck was broken.” She looked at Ronan. “Declan didn’t have the heart to tell you.”

Ronan swallowed. “What did I do?”

“You took it out onto the porch and you cried and cried until Declan came out with two spades, and together you buried it in the garden.” She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t you remember, Ronan?”

He turned away. “No, Mom. I don’t remember.” To stop her saying anything else, he noisily washed his hands, and when he was done, Aurora had already left the room.

Speaking of Declan had reminded Ronan of the phone-call from the night before, and a new uneasiness crept up on him. He wondered if he should ask Aurora or Matthew if they had seen anything suspicious, but he decided not to almost immediately. Surely they would have mentioned it if they had, and panicking them unnecessarily was absolutely the last thing Ronan wanted to do.

Ronan stepped back out into the main room. Gansey was still sitting on the floor, and Aurora was standing before him, leaning down with her hand against Gansey’s forehead.

“Have you not been sleeping again?” she asked, moving her hand to his cheek. “You look a bit peaky.”

Gansey’s insomnia was a well-known thing to the Lynches; he used to spend a fair few nights at the Barns once upon a time, and Aurora had always been frightfully concerned about it.

“I’m okay,” Gansey said easily. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You should try chamomile tea,” Aurora said, straightening.

“Mom, leave him alone, he said he’s fine,” Ronan said, crossing his arms and leaning against his door frame.

“I was just making a suggestion. You should try it, too, sweetheart.”

“Maybe _you_ should try it,” Ronan shot back, irritated, and then immediately felt guilty. He knocked his head against the door frame in frustration. Aurora looked hurt for a second, then she looked angry, and then her expression smoothed over entirely.

This was why Ronan preferred to spend time with his mother one on one, when she wasn’t pretending she was fine for everyone else. When they could both quietly grieve around each other. There was something to be said for being around someone who knew exactly how much pain you were in, because they felt it, too. It was one of the little comforts Ronan could offer his mother, and one of the little comforts she could offer him. It wasn’t much, but he’d take it.

Around everyone else, Aurora put a mask on, and Ronan never stopped noticing.

“Chamomile tea,” Gansey cut in, diverting Aurora’s attention away from her son. “Why’s that then, does it have special properties?”

She undoubtedly knew what Gansey was doing, but she indulged him anyway, and as the two talked about the benefits of chamomile over other types of tea, Matthew sidled up to Ronan.

“You didn’t need to snap at her,” he said. There was no admonishment, no chiding to his tone; it was just a statement of fact.

“Fuck, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Well you don’t owe _me_ an apology,” Matthew said. Then he smiled and changed the subject, because Matthew Lynch was an angel. “What’re you doing today, anyway?”

Ronan shrugged. “Dunno yet. Go for a drive maybe.” He definitely needed to do _something_ ; restless energy pulsed through his veins, pent up anger and frustration that was dying for some kind of release. Not that he could go far with Chainsaw needing feeding so frequently.

“No racing, though,” Matthew said.

Ronan couldn’t promise that, so he didn’t respond to it. He didn’t even know Matthew knew about it, which meant Declan must have told him. Declan only knew because he had witnessed it. “We might go to Nino’s again,” he said to avoid the subject. “Gansey’s got a dirty crush on one of the waitresses.”

Matthew loved gossip. “Which one?” he asked, eyes bright. “I’ve been in there _loads_ this summer, I know the names of all the staff.” He started rattling off a few, but Ronan was only half paying attention. “—Cialina, Blue. . .”

Gansey looked up jerkily at the mention of Blue’s name.

“Blue?” he said. “You know Blue?”

Matthew laughed delightedly. “ _Blue’s_ the one you have a crush on?”

Gansey went a fantastic shade of pink; Ronan’s mood improved exponentially.

“Actually,” Matthew said when his laughter had subsided, “I can sort of see it. Good luck, though. You’ll need it.”

“How is it that you know _everyone_ ,” Ronan asked his little brother.

Matthew grinned amiably. “It’s because I’m sociable. You should try it sometime.”

“Fuck no,” Ronan scoffed.

“Language, Ronan.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Ronan nudged Matthew’s arm. “Hey, if you know Blue you’ll have to put a good word in for Gansey.”

“No, Matthew, you really don’t have to do that,” Gansey said quickly.

“Don’t you worry, Gansey.” Matthew winked—or, he tried to, but it was more of a blink instead. “I’ll hook you up.”

Gansey dropped his head into his hands and Aurora laughed, although she did it kindly, because everything she did was kind.

“Don’t meddle, Matthew,” she said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, but the gleam in his eye said otherwise.

Aurora shook her head, fond, but beckoned to her youngest son. “Come on, you. Let’s leave these two alone now. Ronan, do you think you could give some of those muffins to Adam? There’s too many for just you and Gansey, they’ll go stale.”

Ronan nodded; it was nice to have a bona fide excuse to see Adam. Not that Adam ever asked for one, but Ronan liked to have one in his back pocket just in case. “Yeah, sure. I can take ‘em down to Cabeswater, he’ll be there at the minute.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you soon, Gansey,” she said with a little wave, and Gansey smiled and waved back.

Ronan followed Aurora and Matthew to the door to see them out, and indulged his brother in the handshake they’d invented several years earlier. Matthew then set off ahead of his mother, who turned to Ronan.

“Are you coming for lunch tomorrow?” She asked this every week, and every week Ronan had the same reply.

“I’ll think about it.” So far, he was yet to actually show up. He already had to spend his Sunday mornings in church with Declan, he wasn’t quite willing to spend the afternoon with him as well.

Aurora sighed, a resigned sound. Then she kissed Ronan on the cheek. “Be good,” she said, then disappeared down the steps.

 

* * *

 

 

Gansey came along on the muffin delivery trip to Cabeswater. He drove the Pig, Ronan sitting shotgun with a Tupperware on his knee, and Gansey pulled up on the side of the road just around the corner from the store.

“Matthew won’t really say anything, will he?” Gansey was saying as the got out of the car and started walking up the sidewalk. “I don’t want to come across as desperate.”

“Come on, man, you know Matthew. Odds are he won’t remember, and even if he does, all he’s likely to say is, ‘Gansey’s my brother’s best friend, he’s really nice.’ You’re over-thinking this.”

“I over-think everything,” Gansey said. “But thank you, that helps.”

Ronan was about to reply, but just as he and Gansey rounded the corner, they bumped into a girl who was walking four small to medium sized dogs. But it wasn’t just any girl.

“Hello, Jane,” Gansey said easily.

Blue looked confused for a split second before she recognised them, and her expression melted into begrudging amusement. “Hello,” she said. She did not complain about the nickname.

An inside joke already. Would wonders never cease?

This was the thing about Gansey, Ronan had learned. He could be awkward, yes, and he often agonised about how he came across and he talked like he was eighty years old sometimes, and yet despite all that, he could be alarmingly smooth. You’d never know that literal seconds earlier he’d been worried at what Matthew may or may not say should he make good on ‘talking Gansey up’ to Blue.

Gansey didn’t _need_ talking up. Somehow, bizarrely, he could do it himself.

“Are these all yours?” Gansey asked, motioning at the dogs that were now crowding around his and Ronan’s legs excitedly.

“Nope. One of my jobs is walking dogs for rich people,” Blue said. She cocked her head to the side, appraising Gansey. “Hey, you’re obviously rich. Got a dog?”

Gansey knelt to stroke one of the dogs, a lovely looking pitbull who’d been sitting on Ronan’s feet and looking up at the muffins hopefully. “No dog unfortunately. We have a raven though.”

Blue laughed, just once. “A raven. Of course you do, dogs and cats are _so_ last year. Ravens are very much in.”

Gansey smiled. “Her name’s Chainsaw, she’s only a baby. Ronan rescued her.”

Blue shot a look at Ronan. “Did he now?” she said wonderingly. Ronan smiled, all teeth, and he knew it wasn’t his friendliest look. Blue seemed unfazed.

Ronan rather wanted to leave them to it now as his presence didn’t really seem to be necessary, but as he went to step forward, one of the dog’s leashes pulled taut across his legs.

“Whoops,” Gansey remarked, and grabbed onto Ronan’s arm as he nearly lost his balance. Somehow, the dogs had wound themselves around Gansey’s and Ronan’s legs while they had stopped to talk to Blue, and none of them had noticed. Now that Ronan had tried to move, they were really quite stuck.

“Gansey, get _off_ me—”

“I can’t, I’ll fall. Here, look, you need to step here then I’ll—hang on. . . wait, that won’t work. . .”

Passersby were starting to stare, amused.

“Fucking—I can’t get my fucking foot out—” Ronan looked up at Blue, who was watching the whole scene unfold and clearly enjoying the show immensely. “You wanna lend a hand here?”

Blue finally relented. “Don’t move,” she said jovially. “I’ll untangle you.”

“Take your time,” Gansey said.

Ronan arched an eyebrow and glared at his friend. “Take your _time?_ ” he repeated.

Gansey shrugged, awkward. “I’m being polite,” he whispered. Blue could clearly hear him and seemed to be trying not to laugh.

“ _What?_ ” came an oh too familiar voice, and Ronan looked over the top of Blue’s head to see none other than Adam Parrish stepping out of the door to Cabeswater to see what the commotion was.

If only the ground would open up and swallow Ronan whole. “Parrish,” he said with a curt nod.

“What am I looking at right now?” Adam asked, then doubled over in laughter, uninhibited giggles overtaking him.

“We, uh, we got in a bit of a tangle,” Gansey supplied helpfully, but Ronan wasn’t sure Adam had heard. He wasn’t even sure Adam could _breathe_ , he was laughing so hard.

Ronan hoped against hope that his ears weren’t as pink as they felt. But embarrassed as he was, it was hard not to enjoy the sound of Adam’s breathless laughter, such a rare and beautiful thing it was.

“Adam is it?” Blue called over her shoulder, and at his nod she beckoned him over. “C’mere, hold these for me.”

She handed Adam two of the leashes and together they managed to coax the dogs around and made enough space for Ronan and Gansey to escape. As soon as he was free, Ronan made a beeline for Cabeswater without a parting word to Blue.

Adam followed him back into the shop, mirth still etched into his features. He wiped away an errant tear. “That made my entire morning. Thanks, Lynch.”

“Oh, anytime, Parrish,” Ronan grumbled. He held out the muffin-filled Tupperware. “Here. From my mom.”

Adam took them and opened the box. He smiled, but there was something self-conscious about it. “For me?” he asked.

Ronan rubbed a hand over the back of his head. “Well, yeah. Or you could share with Noah if you’re feeling generous.”

“He is,” said Noah, seeming to materialise out of nowhere. Noah had an unerring way of sneaking up on people, although Ronan didn’t think he meant to. Noah looked in the box Adam held. “Ooooh, muffins.” He helped himself and then disappeared into the back again.

Adam made his way over to the counter, Ronan trailing behind. “Did your mom make these, Ronan?” he asked.

“Yep. She has a surplus. There’s a shit-ton at Monmouth for me and Gansey as well.” He sighed. “I think she was up baking all night.” Then Ronan froze, because he hadn’t meant to say that last part. It revealed his concern, and Adam didn’t need to know that Ronan was concerned.

It felt like a betrayal, almost, to talk about his mother when she wasn’t there.

But it was Adam, and Adam knew when to keep things quiet. He gave Ronan a measured look, then took a bite of the muffin. “They’re good,” he said. “Thank her for me?”

Ronan breathed a little easier. He shrugged. “Tell her yourself.”

The bell of the door behind them made Ronan turn, and Gansey strode inside brandishing a piece of paper and positively beaming.

“Blue gave me her number,” he said triumphantly.

“She did fucking _not_ ,” Ronan said incredulously, but he barked out a laugh and reached for the paper. “Gimme that.”

On the scrap of paper it read _Blue Sargent_ followed by a local number. The fact that it had been handwritten down seemed to imply to Ronan that Blue didn't have a mobile, meaning that this was a home number. This meant if Gansey called he’d most likely have to talk to a parent to get Blue on the phone. The thought pleased Ronan immensely and he hoped he was around when Gansey decided to make the call.

“Not bad, Dick,” he said.

Even Adam nodded his admiration. “Yeah man, there’s not many people who could cock up as badly as you did yesterday and still somehow end up with a number to show for it.”

Gansey made a good show of being offended. “I am overflowing with natural wit and charisma and it’s about time you two recognised that.”

Ronan locked eyes with Adam and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, Parrish. It’s about _time_.”

Adam grinned. “Fuck off, Lynch.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was after midnight when Ronan tiptoed out of his room.

Gansey lay on his side in the centre of his bed, one arm curled into his body and the other tucked under his pillow. In the ear Ronan could see, he spotted one of the earplugs that he had purchased for Gansey earlier on in the day.

Chainsaw had been fed and was also asleep, but at least Ronan knew that if she woke up in his absence, Gansey shouldn’t be disturbed.

He crept out of Monmouth as quietly as possible and headed down to the car park where the BMW was waiting for him. He threw himself inside, slammed the door, and drove.

Declan’s words rang in his head: _And stay out of trouble. I mean it._

 _Be good_ , his mother had said.

But Ronan had promised to do neither of those things. Adrenaline raced through his veins as he headed out of Henrietta. Anticipation and dread and excitement all bubbling away underneath his skin, so much of it that he felt he was overflowing.

Ronan was going to the Barns.

He absolutely was not allowed to go to the Barns.

It had hit him earlier on in the day when he and Gansey had been traipsing around town. He was supposed to be picking up a birdcage of some description for Chainsaw, when he had suddenly remembered that he already _had_ one. Or at least, he knew where to _find_ one.

There was one at home; a great one, that they’d always had for some reason, although Ronan couldn’t remember them ever having birds.

Regardless, he knew that it was there. And he knew that it was a stupid risk when he could so easily buy Chainsaw a brand new birdcage without having to commit any crimes in the process. But it didn’t matter; he wanted _this_ one.

It was too linked with home now. Once Ronan had got it into his head, he couldn’t let it go. He was going home. He was going to get the birdcage. And then he was going to come back.

In and out, and hopefully it would calm Ronan’s rage, if just for a night. No one would ever have to know.

Driving home was still muscle memory, the whole journey deeply ingrained in Ronan’s mind (in his heart, in his _soul)_ , and as he approached the long driveway he even turned off his music. It was a poignant moment, and Ronan wanted to give it the reverence it deserved.

He pulled up right outside the farmhouse, turned the engine off, and leaned forward, his arms draped over the steering wheel. He looked up at his house—his _home_ —to find it just as it had been left. He’d triggered the security light in his approach and it illuminated the front porch in an orange glow. He could see the porch-swing, undisturbed.

The last people to sit in it had been his parents, the day before Niall was murdered. Ronan had seen them from one of the outer barns, and remembered rolling his eyes at the sight.

A sob caught in his throat and Ronan realised that he had started crying. He rubbed furiously at his eyes, trying to ignore the sting as more tears queued up. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea after all. It was torturous to be here, Ronan thought, just as it was torturous to be exiled. But he couldn’t figure out if the pain was from being here at all, or from the knowledge that he couldn’t stay.

He wiped his eyes again with the back of his arm and then sat back, taking a few deep breaths, as slow as he could manage without feeling sick.

Ronan got out of the car.

He moved quickly and quietly—this was still a clandestine mission after all—and made his way inside. He did have a key; they’d all been made to surrender their house keys when they had finally had to leave, but Ronan had a sneaky spare that he’d had made in advance. It was this spare that he’d given to the rat bastard of a lawyer, keeping the original for himself.

Once inside, Ronan went straight for the large living room, filled with its various knick-knacks brought home from Niall’s many work trips. The whole room was exactly as Ronan had last seen it. Entering it now could be like any time Ronan had ever come downstairs in the middle of the night if he couldn’t sleep, to grab a glass of water and watch TV. The sofas looked as welcoming as ever, throws flung over the backs of them, cushions haphazardly placed.

Countless times had Ronan dreamt of this room, longing for it, and now he was back and he could barely stand it.

Torture.

He shook his head firmly as if he could knock the thoughts from his head, and finally reached the back of the room where the was a window seat, and next to it, a side-table. On top of the table was Ronan’s prize: the birdcage.

He reached for it, but as he did, a hand seized his wrist.

“The fuck—”

Before Ronan could react any further, he was yanked backwards by his silent assailant, and in one smooth movement, flung over their shoulder until he landed flat on his back on the floor. A hand immediately encircled Ronan’s throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to be a warning, and a non-descript man loomed over Ronan. He leaned his knee on Ronan’s chest to prevent him from moving.

Ronan kicked his legs out to try and get free but the man squeezed on his neck, just once.

“Don’t,” he said, toneless. “You know, Mr Lynch, you’re really not supposed to be here.”

A thousand questions ran through Ronan’s head, but he eventually managed to choke out the one that seemed the most important. “Who the fuck _are_ you?”

“Me?” the man said mildly. “I’m no one important. But I suppose for convenience sake, you can call me Mr Gray.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i'm a little late getting this chapter up, but i suppose i'm not really. plus this one is almost 5k when i've been trying to keep the chapters at around 3k so there's a little extra :) hope you enjoy!
> 
> chapter title is from a blink-182 song (can you tell i'm not trying very hard with these lmao)


	5. Better a cruel truth than a comfortable delusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is like a week late, but valentine's day was last week and i wanted to write fluff but i knew there wouldn't really be an opportunity for any in this chapter, and then after i'd finished my fluffy oneshots i just wasn't in the mood to write. but don't worry i should be fine with a once a week update from here on out, and they will most likely be on thursdays/fridays because i think i prefer posting nearer the end of the week.

Mr Gray.

Ronan desperately searched his memory for any recognition, anything at all of hearing his father say that name, or his brother. He had nothing. ‘Mr Gray’ held no meaning for him.

It was fitting though. ‘Gray’ was most definitely the best descriptor for this man, down to his clothes and his fair skin and hair. Despite the fact that he was currently holding Ronan—who was by no means small or weak—down, his expression gave away no sign of exertion. In fact his face was devoid of any emotion in general, and Ronan found that he was frightened of this man. He was unnerving.

“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if I may, Mr Lynch.”

Ronan strained in the Gray man’s grip. “Let _go_ of me,” he snapped, turning the fear into anger.

The Gray man sighed, sounding just on the verge of frustration—the first sign that there was anything going on behind his eyes. “Are you going to try and fight me if I do? Because it really won’t go well for you, and I’d rather not have to hurt you.”

“You’ve got a funny fucking way of showing it.”

“Look, Mr Lyn—” The Gray man broke off and seemed to be considering something. “Ronan. Do you mind if I call you Ronan? I called your father Mr Lynch. I call your brother Mr Lynch. It all gets very confusing.”

Surprise knocked the wind out of Ronan’s sails, and he went limp. “What the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice coming out much shakier than he wanted it to, his breathing heavy and laboured from the pressure of the Gray man’s knee on his chest.

The Gray man watched Ronan for a moment, then he slowly released his grip and removed his knee. He stood up and backed away slowly, keeping his hands up where Ronan could see them, as if to prove he wasn’t going to attack again.

Ronan didn’t trust himself to steadily get to his feet, so he sat up and slid backwards until he hit the wall, needing to put space between him and the Gray man. He hated that it gave away his fear, but he couldn’t help it. It was instinctive to back away.

The pair of them regarded each other, Ronan wary, the Gray man curious. If it was a question of who would break first, Ronan knew he was going to lose.

Again, he uttered, “What. The _fuck_. Is going on?”

“I thought I was the one asking the questions. What are you doing here, Ronan?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” Ronan said, incredulous. “This is my fucking _house_ , I _live_ here!”

“Except you don’t. You haven’t for a while now. Your current address is at 1136 Monmouth, or Monmouth Manufacturing, if you will. It’s a couple streets over from the street where your mother and brothers are living. You live with Richard Campbell Gansey the Third, and even though this remains the property of your family, all of you are currently legally barred from entering. So again, Ronan, I ask you: What are you doing here?”

All of this was rattled off matter-of-factly, as if the Gray man were merely reciting his grocery list, but Ronan got the point. The Gray man knew who he was, his family, his friends (or Gansey, at the very least), where they lived, and enough about their situation to know they weren’t supposed to be at the Barns. In fact, Ronan had a sneaking suspicion that the Gray man knew _why_ they weren’t allowed at the Barns.

The Gray man was still waiting for an answer to his question. The truth, Ronan suspected, was his best option.

“The fucking birdcage, man,” he said, gesturing to where it still sat over by the window. “I just wanted the birdcage!”

The Gray man glanced at it, then back to Ronan, and he frowned. “Why?”

Ronan let out an exasperated breath. “For my bird!”

The Gray man arched a pale eyebrow. “You have a bird?”

“I found a baby raven and I need something to keep her in while I’m not there, so she doesn’t get hurt or lost.”

“A raven?” the Gray man asked, then shook his head slightly, almost like a silent warning to himself not to get distracted. He looked back to the birdcage and went over to it this time. He picked it up and carried it back over, scrutinising it carefully. He checked the bottom as if to check for hidden compartments, and when he was finished he put the birdcage down on the floor between them. “What’s so special about it?”

“Wha— _nothing_ ,” Ronan said. He didn’t know what answers the Gray man was looking for, but it was becoming more apparent that perhaps the Gray man wasn’t entirely sure what to ask. “It’s just a birdcage.”

“Your father didn’t leave you penniless, or so I hear. You could buy a new one.”

“I want that one,” Ronan said petulantly, and realised he sounded like a child. He tried to think of a way to explain, but abruptly didn’t want to. Mr Gray was a stranger, and Ronan didn’t owe him a damn thing. “I want that one,” he repeated.

Bizarrely, the Gray man seemed to understand, and he shrugged, nudging it closer to Ronan with his foot. “Alright,” he said. He crossed his arms. “Listen, I’m going to cut you some slack and let you run on back to Henrietta now with a little warning. Don’t come back here. It is a foolish risk, and you’re lucky it was me who caught you here and not someone else.”

Ronan grabbed the birdcage and pulled it close to his chest. He felt better having something to grab onto; his fingers clenched anxiously in the bars. “Mr. . . Gray,” he said. “How did you know my dad, how do you know my _brother_ , and why the fuck have you been watching me and my family? Because I really have no fucking idea what the _fuck_ is going on here. ”

The silence was endless, as the Gray man’s gray eyes bored into Ronan’s, searching his expression; for what, Ronan wasn’t sure. Eventually, the Gray man raised his eyebrows. “Huh,” he said. “That’s interesting.”

“ _What_ is?” Ronan snapped, his nerves in absolute shreds.

“I think you’re telling the truth,” came the reply, which wasn’t really an answer.

“I don’t lie.”

“And I believe you,” the Gray man said with a sage nod.

All at once, Ronan was done. Done with this whole fucking night. Done with being kept in the dark. Done with everything. “That’s great, man, but you know what? I don’t believe _you_ ,” he sneered. “You didn’t know my father. You don’t know a single fucking thing about him.”

“Oh, I think I know more about him than you did. And trust me, Ronan, you’re better off not knowing.”

“Fuck _you_ , whoever the fuck you are. Why have you been watching us? Do you—” Ronan cut himself off, searching for his own answers. “Do you work for the lawyers who oversee my dad’s will or something? To keep us from coming here?”

“The lawyers?” The Gray man sounded almost amused by the idea. “No. I don’t work for the lawyers.”

“Then who _do_ you work for?”

The Gray man’s expression darkened. “Someone else,” he said tightly.

 _“Who?”_ Ronan pressed. He received no reply, and the way the Gray man stood, mouth set in a straight line, gave Ronan the distinct impression he wasn’t going to get one. He sighed and knocked his head back against the wall. Then he pushed back and used the momentum to slide to his feet, adjusting the birdcage in his arms so it didn’t fall. “How did you know I was coming here?”

“I didn’t. I followed you, and this is where you ended up.”

A shiver ran up Ronan’s spine. “I didn’t see you.”

“That’s because I didn’t want you to.”

Ronan let his fear and anger give his tone a jeering, bitter edge as he slowly started to walk out, the Gray man close behind him. “So that’s your whole fucking job then? Spying on a grieving family? That’s fucking creepy, man.”

The Gray man was unruffled. “Keeping an eye on you is just a fraction of my responsibilities,” he said evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Ronan said, peering over his shoulder as he opened the front door. “What’s the rest then?”

For the first time, the Gray man smiled. A smile that said he was finished with humouring Ronan. “That’s on a need to know basis. And you don’t need to know.”

Ronan disagreed vehemently, but he knew he wasn’t going to get anything else out of the Gray man.

Outside, Ronan saw a car he didn’t recognise parked several feet behind where he’d left the BMW. It definitely hadn’t been there when Ronan had entered the house, which meant the Gray man must have coasted silently up the drive with his lights off and waited until Ronan was out of sight before getting out and following him in. He suppressed yet another shiver as he put the birdcage into the trunk of his car.

Once he closed the trunk and straightened, he saw the Gray man leaning up against his own car, watching Ronan. He was obviously waiting for Ronan to leave first.

Ronan headed around to the drivers’ side and opened the door, but he hesitated before getting in. He looked up at the Gray man again, and asked one more question. “Do you. . . do you mean my family any harm? Are you a danger to us?”

It was hard to tell in the dimness, but Ronan thought the Gray man’s expression might have softened, ever so slightly. But his voice was just as even as before when he answered. “I don’t mean anybody any harm. But that doesn’t mean I’m not a threat, and it most definitely doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.”

“If you hurt them,” Ronan said, fists shaking, “I’ll kill you.”

“Ronan, believe it or not I don’t actually enjoy threatening teenagers. I don’t enjoy having to watch a widow and her sons during the most trying months of their lives, but I’m getting paid, and I have bills to pay. The best thing that you can do is keep your head down. Do not, under any circumstances, come back here, because it looks suspicious. I have no doubt that you miss your home, but it isn’t worth the fallout if you’re caught. So have fun with your friends, go to school, do teenager stuff. Sooner or later, everything will blow over.”

Ronan, who had taken to chewing on the leather bands on his wrists as the Gray man spoke, lowered them from his mouth now. “How do you know that?”

“Because as soon as my employer is satisfied that you and your family don’t have what he’s looking for, he’ll turn his attentions elsewhere.”

Ronan felt a jolt run through him. “What’s he looking for?”

“Ronan.” It was one word, a command, and Ronan knew he had now reached the Gray man’s absolute limit. “Get in the car. Go back to Henrietta. Now.”

Feeling thoroughly dismissed, Ronan made a big show of flipping the Gray man off and then throwing himself into the drivers’ seat, slamming the door behind him. He tore out of the driveway as fast as he could, and as soon as he hit the main road he put his foot down.

The whole journey back, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror, but the Gray man’s car never appeared.

 

* * *

 

The one upside of the Barns excursion was that Chainsaw _loved_ her new birdcage. Ronan set it up in the corner of his bedroom, fed Chainsaw, then left her to explore her new surroundings.

It wasn’t yet dawn, but by now Ronan was too keyed up to even attempt sleep. He lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. He kept going over everything the Gray man had said, turning it over and over in his mind, looking at every possible meaning.

The Gray man had given a surprising amount away, but in such a cryptic manner that it was still frustratingly vague. Who the Gray man worked for, Ronan had no idea, but it must have been someone Niall had done business with at some point.

The thing was, Ronan wasn’t stupid. Niall had been a salesman of the highest order, travelling all over the world and selling rare artifacts to international high rollers. It was what kept him away from home so much of the time, either procuring these artifacts or off at some auction selling them. Ronan may have been naive enough to believe that was all there was to it before his father had died, but not anymore. There had to be some dodgy dealings in there _somewhere_. There was too much money involved for there _not_ to be.

Ronan didn’t want to believe it, but given the violent nature of his father’s murder followed by the bizarre instructions left in his will, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

The only way that Ronan could rationalise it whilst still keeping the same glorified version of Niall Lynch in his mind was this: Niall had gotten into financial difficulty and not told anyone—with the perhaps sole exception of Declan—and had then proceeded to make an ill-advised but well-intentioned illegal deal in order to dig himself and his family out of trouble. Something, somewhere, had gone wrong, and Niall had been killed for it.

That was the theory Ronan had been slowly cultivating. As horrible a subject matter as it was to think about, when he had first landed on this idea Ronan had been relieved. He could get behind this idea of his father, the man he _knew_ , getting involved in something nefarious for his family’s sake. It was stupid, sure, and Ronan would obviously rather be penniless than fatherless, and if Niall were still here he’d tell him so, but at least it was a reasoning that Ronan _understood_. After all, was there anything that he himself wouldn’t do for his family?

Ronan was nothing if not his father’s son.

The problem was that whenever Ronan focused too hard on this theory, it started to unravel in his hands, depending on which thread he pulled. If they were in some kind of financial ruin, surely there would be some sort of paper trail come to light now that Niall was dead. Ronan and his brothers and Aurora had all been left substantial amounts of money, and as far as Ronan knew, there were no problems with these funds. They were in the bank, where they were supposed to be.

It also didn’t explain why Niall had banished his family from their home. No matter which way he looked at it, Ronan came up blank on that one.

The Gray man had let slip that his employer was looking for something, and had implied that the Lynches were being watched because of the possibility that one of them was in possession of whatever it was. It stood to reason, then, that Niall had originally had this item—if it even _was_ an item. Maybe it was still in the house somewhere; maybe that’s why they were exiled. Niall had known that in the event of his death, people might come looking for it, leaving his family in harm’s way, so he had removed them from the Barns to keep them safe.

Ronan sighed and rolled over onto his side. It was a big maybe, but it was all he had.

 

* * *

 

Ronan didn’t speak to Declan during Mass. He didn’t acknowledge him at all, in fact, despite Declan’s numerous attempts to communicate before the service began.

Matthew sat between them, as usual. Aurora never came anymore. She hadn’t since Niall had died. But the three Lynch brothers had kept going; the only time all three of them were ever together all at once anymore.

By the end of the service, Ronan could practically feel Declan’s eyes boring a hole through his skull, and Matthew elbowed Ronan lightly as they stood up to leave. “Did you fight?” he asked quietly. Ronan shook his head.

Out in the car park, Ronan told Matthew to go and wait for Declan in the Volvo.

“Okay,” Matthew said. “Are you coming to lunch? Mom asked me to remind you.”

“No. Not today,” Ronan replied. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Matthew said again, a little more miserably this time. He shuffled off to Declan’s Volvo and Ronan watched him go. He felt bad, but his anger at his older brother kept most of the guilt at bay.

Declan had been slower to leave the church, having been dragged into a conversation with an old friend of their mother’s, but he caught up now. He glanced towards his car where Matthew was just getting inside, and then back to Ronan. He raised an eyebrow. “Something to say all of a sudden?” he asked, full of snark.

Ronan smiled thinly. “I met Mr Gray last night.”

All of the colour drained from Declan’s face, and he gaped at Ronan, grasping for words. His voice was hoarse when he eventually found them. “How do you know about Mr Gray?”

Ronan shrugged. “He introduced himself.” He wasn’t going to tell Declan that the Gray man had followed him to the Barns, because that would require admitting he’d been to the Barns at all, and Ronan didn’t think he owed Declan any honesty. “Guess you were right about us being watched,” he said pointedly, and he practically felt Declan bristle.

“Why would he talk to you?” Declan asked, but it seemed to be more directed at himself than at Ronan, so Ronan didn’t reply.

Declan cut a sharp look around the car park as if he thought they were being watched right now. And for all Ronan knew, maybe they were. The Gray man had implied that they weren’t being watched around the clock, but it was obviously often enough. It had been enough to get caught last night. Declan lowered his voice. “Ronan, what did he tell you?”

“Don’t worry, Declan, he barely told me a fucking thing. But I _do_ know enough to know that _you_ know something, much more than you’ve been letting on. When you feel like sharing, let me know, but until then I have fuck all to say to you,” Ronan said, and he started walking towards his own car without a backwards glance.

Declan didn’t call after him, but as Ronan drove away, he got some sort of grim satisfaction at leaving Declan dumbstruck. The point wasn’t to get answers out of Declan today. The point was to make it clear that he knew Declan _had_ the answers, or at least _some_ of them. He felt it gave him the moral high-ground, something he very much enjoyed having over his brother. It was the only thing keeping him from punching Declan in the face in the St. Agnes car park.

Ronan knew the Gray man was out there, somewhere. He’d warned Ronan to keep his head down, and so that’s what Ronan would do if it meant keeping his family safe. His answers could wait if they were being too closely scrutinised for Ronan to get them yet without drawing attention. But get them, Ronan _would_ , and when he did, he was going to figure out a way to go _home_.

 

* * *

 

By the time Ronan arrived back at Monmouth, a text message had buzzed in from Declan.

_\- i know you don’t think you have any reason to trust me, but believe it or not i’m trying to protect all of you. you don’t need to be a shithead about it. and if you see mr gray again, run the other way. he’s dangerous._

The message just made Ronan angry, but he just about managed to refrain from throwing his phone against the outer walls of Monmouth.

Inside, Ronan found Gansey lying like a starfish on his bed, staring mournfully at the ceiling, his phone dangling loosely in his hand.

“Aw, man,” Ronan said. “Did you call Blue when I wasn’t here? You _know_ I wanted to witness that.”

Gansey scowled. “No, not yet. I’m still building my nerve.” He sighed expansively and turned his head to face Ronan. He looked uncharacteristically morose. “My mother is running for Congress.”

“No shit,” Ronan said, then laughed. “Well, she’s got my vote.” This wasn’t actually true, but it did at least make Gansey give an exasperated smile.

“I’m sure she’ll be happy with the support, Ronan.”

Ronan kicked his shoes off and grabbed one of the Tupperware boxes Aurora and Matthew had brought over the day before. He carried it with him back over to Gansey’s bed then sat down on the edge. “Move,” he said, and Gansey shuffled to the left to make more space for Ronan.

After making himself comfortable, Ronan pulled off the lid of the Tupperware and helped himself to a muffin. “You want one?” he asked Gansey. Gansey merely grunted. Ronan couldn’t tell if it was an affirmative grunt or not, but he took out a muffin and placed it on Gansey’s chest anyway.

“Thanks,” Gansey said, but made no move to sit up and actually eat the damn thing.

Ronan quite liked it when Gansey wallowed. It happened so rarely that when it did, it reminded Ronan that his infallible king of a best friend was just a boy. Like him.

After a couple of minutes of companionable silence, Ronan kicked Gansey lightly in the leg. “Seriously, man, what’s the problem? I thought you already knew your mom would run eventually. Wasn’t that always her plan?”

Gansey sighed. “Yes, but I was hoping it would be at a time when I was out of the country and less likely to be guilted into making appearances.”

“Ohhhh,” Ronan said. It made sense now. Gansey had been summoned. “When does she want you?”

“Not next weekend, but the one after. A fundraiser. Apparently Helen’s coming to get me in the helicopter.”

Ronan snorted. “Of course she is.”

Gansey finally sat up and started idly picking at his muffin, tearing off chunks and eating them a bite at a time. His mind seemed to be miles away as he stared off into the middle-distance, and he hummed thoughtfully.

“I think I’m going to ask Adam to come with me.” He glanced at Ronan. “It’s a good networking opportunity for him. Could be chances of internships later down the line. What do you think?”

Ronan shrugged. “The fuck you asking me for? Ask Parrish.”

“No, Ronan, I’m asking if you think I should ask him at _all_. Will he think I’m meddling? You know what he’s like.”

Ronan _did_ know what Adam was like, but again, he didn’t really want to talk about him with Gansey. “Just suggest it to him. If he gets annoyed then back off. But if it really is a good opportunity, he’ll go. He’s too prudent not to.”

Gansey hummed again. “That’s true.” He finished his muffin and screwed the paper case into a little ball. Then he gasped and looked up sharply. “Oh, Ronan. I didn’t think. . . you can come too, if you want?” he said, but he looked unsure, and also Ronan highly doubted Gansey _actually_ wanted him there; he’d have to watch him like a hawk. Ronan didn’t want to be babysat, and besides, it wasn’t his scene.

“Fucking hell, Dick, I cannot believe you just asked me that with a straight face.”

Gansey rolled his eyes, but he looked a little relieved. Ronan couldn’t help the pinprick of hurt that he felt at the idea of Gansey and Adam both away for the weekend, together, while Ronan was left in Henrietta alone. It didn’t matter that he had absolutely no interest in going to Mrs Gansey’s bullshit Congress fundraiser. It was an infuriating contradiction.

Ronan breezed past the uncomfortable feeling, fixing Gansey with a sharp grin. “Leave me the keys to the Pig while you’re gone.”

“Never in a million years, Ronan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is an edward abbey quote.
> 
> also, i realise that it might be frustrating that ronan is still being kept in the dark about a lot of things, but in the (very vague) plan i have in my head, it's not the right time for him to get all of those answers. but anyway, sorry again for the delay and i hope the wait was worth it! <3


	6. Smooth Operator

For months now, Ronan’s dreams had all been variations on a theme.

The theme, unfortunately, was death. Which meant that they weren’t so much dreams, but nightmares. And months of consecutive nightmares was fucking exhausting, to put it mildly.

A lot of the time, the death manifested in the nightmares was Niall’s; Ronan’s subconscious would throw him back to a time when his father still lived, only to have to watch him die again in various different ways. These were heart-wrenching in a way Ronan couldn’t articulate—that is, if he ever bothered to talk to anyone about them—because the moments of the dream in which his father was alive were always based in very real memories, and Ronan lost himself in them, believing they were true. But then the dreams turned dark and sinister and Niall would die in some way, either fantastical and nightmarish, or in the way it had _actually_ happened. Ronan hadn’t witnessed it, but he’d imagined it often enough. Just like in real-life, dream-Ronan was always helpless to do anything, and every time he woke up and remembered, it felt just like it had when he’d found his father’s body.

Which was to say it felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

As painful as it was to relive his father’s death, even if it took a different route than it had in real-life, Ronan still thought that he’d prefer those to some of the others that haunted him. Because sometimes it was Aurora who he lost, ravaged and torn by beasts Ronan never made it in time to fend off. Dream creatures, except no, that wasn’t quite right. Night terrors seemed more appropriate.

Or sometimes Gansey would be in the line of fire, caught in a swarm of angry hornets stinging him repeatedly even though just one was enough to get the job done. It wasn’t always hornets. Sometimes wasps, and once even a friendly looking bumblebee. But the outcome was always the same.

Dreams in which Adam appeared tended to start out fairly positively as if some decent part of Ronan’s brain was trying to offer him some reprieve, but everything got twisted in the end; everything in Ronan’s head was such a mess. The dream would turn into a nightmare, and Adam would usually vanish or be replaced with someone else. Only once had dream-Adam died, pulled into an eerie forest by vines which wrapped around him and constricted as Ronan tried desperately to cut him free. The sounds of Adam struggling to breathe followed Ronan well into his waking hours.

Ronan had dreamt a thousand different ways in which Matthew met his end, from the completely implausible to the incredibly realistic, and it was these nightmares that had Ronan waking up gasping for breath with tears in his eyes, reaching for his phone to make sure his little brother was okay.

Declan often made an appearance in Ronan’s dreams, but it was never Declan as he was now. It was a younger Declan, when he and Ronan had still been friends. No one ever died in these dreams but they hurt in a different way. How badly Ronan wanted to go back.

The majority of the time, however, the demons in Ronan’s head came for him alone.

He was afraid of them, these night terrors with their sharp beaks and claws, and because Ronan couldn’t always immediately tell that he was dreaming, he always ran and hid. At least at first.

But once he realised that it was a nightmare and they couldn’t really hurt him, sometimes he just let them take him. He didn’t want to die. He had a lot to live for, he knew that. He had a lot of people who counted on him, and who would be devastated if anything were to happen to him.

It wasn’t _about_ wanting to die. It was about wanting to wake up. The minute he let the night-terrors kill him, he would wake up, which he couldn’t always do on his own.

The rules always used to be that if you realised you were dreaming, all you had to do was open your eyes if you wanted out. It had always worked before. But ever since Ronan’s nightmares had turned homicidal, he couldn’t seem to do it anymore, even if he knew it wasn’t real. It was like his mind was punishing him.

His choices were limited. Watch his family die, his friends die. Get lost in happy memories of a time he could never return to. Relive his father’s death, over and over again. Die himself.

So Ronan didn’t sleep.

 

* * *

 

The couple of weeks before Gansey whisked Adam off to his mother’s fancy party passed slowly.

There were so many hours to fill for someone who only slept in patches. Looking after Chainsaw kept Ronan busy enough, but she was getting a little bit bigger every day, and already needed feeding less frequently than she had when Ronan first brought her back to Monmouth.

Ronan crept out in the middle of the night a couple of times a week to race Kavinsky and his crew. He knew that Gansey and Declan and even Matthew didn’t like that he did this, but he also knew that behind the wheel, accelerator pressed to the floor, shooting past the Mitsubishi when K fucked up the gear change like he _always_ did, was one of the only times he felt well and truly happy.

Ronan took his vices where he could.

Knowing the Gray man could be watching put a slight dampener on these excursions, but then again the Gray man had never mentioned anything about Ronan’s racing. This meant that either he’d never witnessed them—which Ronan found unlikely—or that he simply didn’t care.

Nevertheless, the Gray man was a concern. In the daytime, Ronan couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, the itchy feeling of being watched even more prevalent now that he actually knew he _was_. A couple of times he even thought he spotted the Gray man, but on closer inspection he was wrong. And besides, the Gray man would only allow Ronan to see him if he _wanted_ to be seen.

It was all incredibly unnerving.

The result of it meant that Ronan spent less time out and about and more time at Monmouth or the Lynch apartment. He still wasn’t talking to Declan, obviously, but Matthew would always mention if Declan had gone out, and sometimes Ronan would go round in his absence. Aurora liked to see Chainsaw, and Ronan would rather take her there than have Aurora visit Monmouth. If she saw the cage Ronan had for Chainsaw, she’d immediately know where he got it from and Ronan didn’t want to have to explain.

He couldn’t lie, but the truth was dangerous.

He skated a difficult edge here, knowing what he did and yet not knowing enough to understand. He leaned heavily on the silent treatment with Declan, ignoring any texts or calls, coldly blanking him out at church. Sooner or later, Declan would cave and give him the whole story. Ronan just had to out-stubborn him.

Aside from Ronan and his various problems, Gansey had made a startling amount of progress with Blue.

To Ronan’s annoyance, Gansey had made the initial phone-call when Ronan had been out and so he hadn’t been able to witness it. All he got out of Gansey was that it had gone “surprisingly well”.

They’d met up a few of times on their own, and Gansey had even brought her back to Monmouth a couple of times. He still called her Jane, which she no longer so much as batted an eyelid at. It was a whole thing.

Ronan called her maggot and she wasn’t nearly as offended by it as Ronan might like her to be.

“Blue’s mother is an actual psychic,” Gansey said one evening after what must have been a great date if the dopey smile on his face was anything to go by. “Isn’t that cool?”

“No,” Ronan said flatly, but Gansey didn’t seem to notice his tone.

It wasn’t that Ronan minded Blue, not really, it was just that he wasn’t sure he had room in his life for anymore _people_. Granted, Gansey was the one making room for her, but Ronan _lived_ with him. He was Gansey’s best friend, and people who rolled with Gansey tended to roll with Ronan by association. And if Ronan and other people he was close to were being watched, then anyone new entering the fray had the potential to be dragged in as well. Ronan didn’t like feeling responsible.

It was all such a tangled web.

On the whole, Ronan detached himself from his friends a little before the Friday afternoon when Helen arrived in a helicopter to whisk them away. It was partly because of the Gray man, but a little of it was because he felt like he was being abandoned, even though he knew he _wasn’t_.

He dropped in to see Adam at Cabeswater just once, only to find he wasn’t there because he’d switched a shift. It had instantly soured Ronan’s already tumultuous mood and Noah had given him a knowing look and said, “I know why you’re mad.”

Ronan had felt dread fill him as he replied, “Tell me then, Prophet.”

Noah merely shrugged and said, “It’s not my job to tell other people’s secrets,” before seeing Ronan out with a cheery smile.

So Ronan only saw Adam a couple of brief times, and if Ronan was in a bad mood, then Adam was in a distant mood where nothing could reach him. Ronan guessed he was saving all his energy for the weekend from hell he had coming up at the Gansey estate. Ronan didn’t know why he was bothering to go; it was only making him anxious. Gansey was only going because he _had_ to.

Ronan picked Adam up from St. Agnes before Helen arrived while Gansey was getting his things together. Adam carefully laid his suit in its hanger and cover flat in the trunk of the BMW, then sat in the passenger seat and tucked his rucksack in between his feet on the floor.

Ronan pulled out of the car park in silence, but Adam’s nerves had him so on edge that he was practically vibrating. It was hard to ignore.

“You know, you don’t have to go,” Ronan said just before they arrived at Monmouth, because somehow it felt like it _needed_ to be said.

Adam closed his eyes and pressed his temple into the passenger window. “Ronan. Please, just—just don’t.”

“Whatever, Parrish,” Ronan snapped, and wrenched the BMW into its usual parking spot. “Have a nice fucking weekend.”

Ronan stomped back up to the apartment and didn’t bother going back down until they’d gone, watching the helicopter land and take off again through the window. He felt bad for snapping at Adam, but also he didn’t. He knew that he was impossible, but Adam was _also_ impossible, and Ronan didn’t really feel like he’d said anything _wrong_. At least up until the snapping part.

He shoved it out of his mind.

Left to his own devices, Ronan didn’t even need to sneak out to leave that night and go racing. He fed Chainsaw before he left and then he fed her again when he got back, and then he drank himself stupid until the sun came up again.

Drinking until he passed out made it remarkably easy to waste several hours of his Saturday, and Ronan felt it was worth the headache he woke up with just to have had a dreamless sleep.

Once up, he showered, and he fed Chainsaw, and he ate cereal from the box because they didn’t have any milk. After that, he was at a loss of what to do. He tried and failed not to think about Gansey and Adam in Georgetown without him.

A few vaguely offensive texts from Kavinsky rolled in throughout the afternoon, all trying to goad him into coming back out tonight. Ronan ignored them all, because he wasn’t in the mood. He thought that sooner or later Kavinsky would have to get bored of losing, but it hadn’t happened yet. When the texts turned to calls, Ronan blocked Kavinsky’s number. A temporary measure until he felt like racing again.

Gradually, Ronan’s headache faded, and a little before six, Matthew called him.

“Me and Mom are calling for a pizza and watching movies. Come over?”

 

* * *

 

A buzzing sound awoke Ronan with a start, and he jerked his head around, instinctively looking for a wasp or something else equally likely to kill Gansey before he could move.

It was disorienting to realise he was not at Monmouth, and then Ronan remembered that he was at his family’s rented apartment, and Gansey was out of town. Not to mention that the buzzing was coming from his phone, which sat on the coffee table before him and vibrated with an incoming call.

It fell silent. Ronan rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hands and then blinked in the dimness. It was now fully dark outside, but the light from the TV cast the room in a blue glow. The movie had finished and returned to the DVD menu, but Ronan had no idea how long that had been on-screen. Could have been minutes. Could have been hours.

Matthew was a warm and familiar weight slumped against Ronan’s side, drooling lightly on his shoulder. Ronan gently pushed his brother the other way so that he was instead leaning against the back corner of the sofa. Matthew stirred a little but didn’t open his eyes, and quickly resumed lightly snoring. Ronan got to his feet, stretching.

His phone began to ring again.

Ronan leaned over to check the caller ID, half expecting it to be Declan, and was moderately surprised to see that it was Gansey who was calling. Ronan snatched his phone off the coffee table, not to answer it, but to stop the buzzing from being quite so offensive to the ears. Matthew could sleep through a tornado, but Aurora, curled up in the armchair in the corner, was another story.

Once the phone had rang out, Ronan quietly made his way over to his mother. Her golden hair was almost a curtain across her face as she slept, but Ronan could still see the crinkle between her eyebrows, one that implied her sleep wasn’t entirely restful.

The blanket Aurora had lightly pulled over herself earlier had slipped down, and Ronan pulled it higher, making sure her shoulder was covered. In his hand, his phone started buzzing again, and Ronan retreated quickly and quietly out of the room so that it wouldn’t wake his sleeping mother.

What Gansey wanted, Ronan didn’t know. He thought perhaps that Gansey was checking up on him, making sure that Ronan wasn’t up to nefarious activity in Gansey’s absence. Ronan allowed the thought to fill him up with irritation. Gansey’s concern seemed misplaced when all Ronan was doing was having a movie night with his mom and brother. Last night's activities were another story, but Gansey hadn’t _called_ then, so it was irrelevant.

Once he had reached the kitchen he answered the phone with a hissed, “Jesus fuck, _what?”_

“Ronan,” said a voice that was decidedly not Gansey’s. “It’s me. It’s Adam.”

“Parrish?” Ronan didn’t understand. Leftover sleep-haze left him discombobulated and his mind immediately went to worst case scenarios. “Why do you have Gansey’s phone? Did something—”

“No,” Adam cut in quickly. “God. No. He’s fine. He’s charming all his mom’s guests probably, that’s where I left him. I had to step out. I—God. Sorry. I don’t know why I called.”

Ronan hated talking on the phone. But he didn’t hate talking to Adam, and Adam sounded like he was having some sort of internal crisis, and also Ronan was too tired to be brash right now. He quietly shut the kitchen door so his voice wouldn’t carry, and then he sat down at the table. “’S’okay, Parrish.”

“I just—I just needed a breather. I picked up Gansey’s jacket thinking it was mine and then I found his phone in the pocket. Do you think he’ll mind that I used it to call you? He won’t mind, right?”

Adam was babbling, a surefire sign of an anxious mind. Ronan broke in with a sharp, “Parrish. What’s the problem?”

Adam loosed a long breath and then sucked in another. In his mind, Ronan pictured him running a hand down his face as he spoke into the receiver. “People keep coming up to me on my deaf side and tapping me on the shoulder and I look like an idiot when I jump a mile, and they laugh and make well-meaning jokes about me being skittish and what am I supposed to say? I’m deaf in that ear because my dad knocked me down?”

Adam must have been truly at the end of his rope to mention his father and his ear so plainly, and Ronan gritted his teeth involuntarily. How he hated Robert Parrish.

Adam was still talking. “—and they’re all so _Republican_ , and Gansey’s so. . . _Gansey_ here. Y’know?”

Ronan had never been unlucky enough to actually be dragged to one of Mrs Gansey’s political parties, but he could imagine, and just imagining was bad enough. He knew that Gansey hated them, but nevertheless he had a part to play. Gansey effortlessly belonged in that world, a fact uncomfortable to no one more than Gansey himself.

There was Gansey the boy. The Gansey who had bought the Pig; who shared companionable nights in insomnia with Ronan and their late night trips to the store for orange juice or cookies; who had offered Ronan a place to stay whenever he needed it long before he started paying rent; who had sat next to Ronan with his quiet support on the nights Ronan felt too low to do anything at all but drink in silence and stare at the wall.

Then there was Richard Campbell Gansey the Third, the politician’s son. Always ready with a smile and a firm handshake. Future leader of America or CEO of some soul-sucking company where he’d have to wear a suit and tie every damn day.

Gansey wore this guise very, very well, slipping in and out of it whenever he needed to. Adam had been won over by Gansey the boy, however. The one he’d found next to his broken down car at the side of the road. He’d shown Gansey the problem and how to fix it, and Gansey had gone on to invite Adam into his very exclusive friendship group within the space of a fifteen minute car-ride to school. This was the Gansey Adam would do anything for.

“It’s all a show, Parrish. And Gansey’s the star,” Ronan said. “He knows how to play the room, that’s all.”

Adam sighed. “I know. I don’t—fuck—I don’t know how to _do_ that, though. Will I have to do that one day? Am I supposed to know how to do that _now?”_

Ronan didn’t answer because he didn’t know, and he didn’t really think Adam expected him to.

“These people,” Adam said. “They just—” He broke off again. It had been a while since Ronan had heard Adam so out of sorts. It didn’t sit right with him. “I don’t like that I need these people to like me. So that they might find me worthy of their—their _time_ , or something, if they were to give me an internship, or. . . or whatever, I don’t know.”

“Parrish,” Ronan said. “Fuck ’em.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for a scowl to be audible, but somehow Adam managed it. “You would say that. You don’t even _want_ to go to college.”

“True. But my point still stands. You don’t need them and their shady politics. Who gives a shit if they don’t give you an internship.”

“ _I_ give a shit,” Adam said crossly. “I’ve been working my _ass_ off, and being here tonight is a huge opportunity—”

“And now you’re hiding in a corner somewhere talking to me,” Ronan interrupted.

“I—yes, but. . .” Adam trailed off and then scoffed, annoyed.

Ronan grinned. Bickering with Adam was second nature, and all trace of the off-balance Adam from a couple of minutes earlier had vanished from his tone. “I—yes—but!” Ronan mimicked in a high-pitched version of Adam’s voice.

“Fuck you, Ronan,” Adam said, but he didn’t sound particularly mad. He let out a breathy laugh. “God. I’ve just pictured you at something like this. I think I’d pay to see that.”

Ronan snorted. “Maybe next time.”

“Oh, I _really_ hope there’s not a next time,” Adam said with a groan. “Fuck, I better go. Gansey’ll probably come looking for me in a minute.”

“Alright. Go schmooze. Or just stand next to Gansey and let him schmooze for you.”

“Ha. Thanks for picking up, by the way. I didn’t think you would. I still don’t understand your aversion to phones.”

“They steal the soul, Parrish.”

“Of course they do. Goodnight, Ronan,” Adam said quietly, then the line clicked dead.

Ronan put his phone down then lowered his head until his forehead made contact with the table. He wasn’t going to do this. He wasn’t going to sit here and analyse a fucking phone-call. He was not that person.

He didn’t need to ask himself why, out of everyone, Adam had called _him_. Adam had called Ronan because he didn’t have anyone _else_ to call, it was as simple as that. Reading anymore into it was just going to torture Ronan, and he already did enough of that on his own.

He didn’t need the question mark he had over Adam’s head to get any bigger than it already was. _Is this something I’m allowed to want? Is this something I could have?_

It was amazing that with everything else going on, especially the more recent revelations, Ronan even had room for his feelings for Adam. But then, he supposed, feelings didn’t really work like that. You either had them or you didn’t, and Ronan had a lot of them. He knew _exactly_ how he felt about Adam. It was inconvenient and frightening, but on the other side of that it felt really, _really_ good.

Ronan took every smile, every laugh, every gesture, every innocuous touch, and he hoarded them in his mind like the little treasures they were. He replayed every conversation, every argument, every moment spent together, and he drove himself crazy with it all. He _liked_ feeling like this; he could only think of it as a positive thing. But the uncertainty came in because Ronan didn’t know how _Adam_ felt. It seemed impossible that he could feel the same way Ronan did.

And _yet_. . .

Ronan sat up straight. He breathed in and out slowly and he checked the time on his phone. It was almost midnight which meant it probably wouldn’t be too much longer before Declan got back, and Ronan didn’t really want to be here when he did.

He went back to the living room and gently shook Matthew awake. “Matty,” he whispered.

Matthew blinked a few times before his eyes focused on Ronan. “Did I fall asleep?” he asked blearily.

Ronan held a finger to his lips. “Mom’s sleeping. Are you going to bed?”

Matthew glanced at Aurora and then rubbed his eyes. He sat up a bit straighter and grabbed the TV remote off the coffee table. “Nah. I’ll wait for Dec to get home,” he said, quieter this time.

It bothered Ronan a little to hear Matthew call this place ‘home’. The Barns was home. Not this apartment. But home for Matthew probably just meant wherever his family was, and he’d also just woken up, and so Ronan let it pass without comment. “Okay. Keep it down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ronan scuffed his brother’s head and then crossed the room to Aurora in the armchair. As quickly and smoothly as possible, he moved her blanket out of the way and scooped her up into his arms.

She stirred as he carried her out of the room and put her arms around his neck. “Ronan,” she said fondly, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Did I miss the movie?”

“We all did,” he replied. Aurora felt lighter than Ronan thought she should. He had suspected that she might have lost a little weight, and this only fuelled his suspicions. He was so worried about her. He wondered if she was worried about _him_.

But of course she was. She was his mother.

Aurora’s bedroom door was pushed to, so Ronan lightly kicked it open when he reached it. He lowered Aurora to the bed and pulled her duvet up and over her. She was already halfway back to sleep.

“’Night, Mom,” he said, and turned to go.

Aurora’s soft voice stopped him. “You’re so good, Ronan. You know that right?” Her words were heavy with impending sleep, but her eyes were still open when he looked back at her.

“Am I?” he asked tightly.

“Of course you are.” She smiled, and her eyes shuttered closed again. “My sweet boy,” she murmured, and then she was asleep.

Ronan left Aurora’s room, shut the door behind him, then leaned his back against it and sighed. He clenched his fists together, suddenly and inordinately angry. Everything was so skewed. They shouldn’t be here. They should be at home where they could grieve surrounded by familiarity. Ronan couldn’t stand it.

He lurched forward and returned to the living room, where Matthew was now watching South Park with the volume turned down low. Ronan seized his keys off the table.

“I’m out. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, already leaving.

“You can stay,” Matthew told Ronan’s retreating back.

“No. I can’t.”

 

* * *

 

Ronan was sitting on the floor of Monmouth watching Chainsaw parade around the model Henrietta late on Sunday afternoon when he heard a car pull into the lot outside. A moment later, he heard another.

Curious, Ronan got to his feet and peered out of the window. A black Suburban had pulled up next to the Pig, and Gansey stepped out of it. Ronan had assumed Helen would drop them back off in the helicopter, but apparently not.

On the other side of the car park closer to the BMW, another car pulled to a stop. It was a. . . Ronan didn’t know what it was. It was a monstrosity. Adam Parrish was in the drivers’ seat.

Ronan picked up Chainsaw and held her close to his chest as he carried her out of the apartment and down to the car park to investigate. Gansey was busy grabbing his bag out of his trunk so Ronan headed straight over to Adam.

“Parrish,” he said when he drew level. “The fuck is this?”

“It’s a car.”

Ronan laughed, a harsh sounding thing. “Is it _really_ though?” He handed Chainsaw over to Adam. “Here, hold my bird.”

Adam looked a little wary, but he took her, and Ronan took the opportunity to inspect Adam’s ‘car’. It seemed to be cobbled together by three different cars; each door was a different colour. It looked a nudge away from completely falling to pieces.

Ronan patted the roof and laughed again. He turned to Adam. “It’s a shitbox,” he said, mightily pleased with this moniker. Adam didn’t bother arguing. “Where did you get it?”

“It was Helen’s old one,” Adam said, just as Gansey came up and stood on Ronan’s other side. “She was going to scrap it and said I could take it off her hands and save her the cost of a tow.” There was a slight furrow in Adam’s brow, like he was still puzzling together the plausibility of the whole thing. But regardless, Adam could definitely use a car, and turning down a free one wasn’t very pragmatic. Adam _was_ very pragmatic.

Ronan, who had spent more than ten minutes in Helen’s company and so knew there was no way she would ever have owned the sorry excuse of a car before them, slid a look to Gansey while Adam was distracted stroking the new feathers that had sprouted near Chainsaw’s beak. Gansey did not meet Ronan’s eye, and instead adjusted the weight of his duffel over his shoulder.

It was a lie, then. A carefully cultivated lie designed to get Adam to accept what ordinarily would be an extravagant gift without wounding his pride. Gansey looked discomfited, which meant it had been Helen’s idea.

It had nothing to do with Ronan. The shitbox didn’t look like it would last long anyway.

“I’m going upstairs to drop my bag off,” Gansey said. “Nino’s later?”

“Is Blue working today?” Ronan asked, smirking.

Gansey’s cheeks pinked slightly. “So what if she is? I like their pizza.” He took off before Ronan had a chance to retort.

“Ronan, here, have her back,” Adam said, and Ronan accepted Chainsaw, letting her nestle in the crook of his arm.

For a moment, Ronan and Adam regarded each other. There was a question on the tip of Ronan’s tongue, but he didn’t speak it. He was thinking about the phone-call the night before, and he suspected Adam was doing the same.

It felt like a sacred memory now, somehow. To speak of it was to taint it. It happened in the night, it belonged to the night, and maybe the night was where it should stay.

The moment passed.

“C’mon, Parrish,” Ronan said. “Nino’s.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter name is a sade song but it's also very much in reference to the fact that ronan actually answered his phone and managed to distract adam from his minor freak out.
> 
> a couple of things!  
> \- i like to write about feelings so i'm sorry if this isn't very exciting lol.  
> \- i know kavinsky was mentioned a couple times in this chapter but he's not really going to be overly relevant. he's there because he and ronan both like racing but he's not going to be a major character like in the dream thieves or anything. he is still bad news but obviously this is non-magic so he's not a dreamer and as such i have no interest in killing him off, he's just a kid, y'know? but i just wanted to mention in case anyone saw him mentioned and immediately thought: oh noooo. don't worry.  
> \- adam did not have his disassociation walkabout episode in this whilst at the gansey estate. he's obviously still dealing with all of the stuff that adam's always dealing with, but i factored in that there's no cabeswater deal in this au so he's not also having these frightening visions and stuff which were clearly an added factor in that incident. it didn't make sense to include it, especially as i'm writing from ronan's pov and he wasn't even there.  
> \- i felt like i had another point to make but now i can't remember what it was.  
> \- and also, thanks to those of you who have kudos'd and commented so far i really appreciate it! :)


	7. like kids, like savages

Another week of Ronan doing as he was told by ‘keeping his head down’ passed slowly. In a lot of ways, Ronan felt like he was exactly where he started before he went back to the Barns in the first place. Things had been so remarkably uneventful since then that he could almost convince himself that the whole incident with Mr Gray hadn’t happened at all. But then he’d look at the birdcage in the corner, a visceral reminder of everything that had gone down.

Just because he hadn’t seen the Gray man since, didn’t mean he wasn’t still out there. Not to mention the confirmation from Declan that he knew who the Gray man was, and that he was dangerous.

Well, great. But if someone wanted to give Ronan just a _little_ more information, that would be fucking fantastic.

Blue was an increasingly common visitor at Monmouth, and her presence often drove Ronan out. Blue was growing on him, but he still didn’t particularly want to play third wheel. It perhaps would have been easier if Adam were around, but that wasn’t the case. Adam seemed to have picked up a ridiculous amount of extra shifts, both to make up for the ones he’d missed whilst at the Gansey estate, and because the new school year was fast approaching. He needed to cram his hours in.

Usually, Adam being at work wouldn’t be a roadblock in Ronan making an effort to see him, particularly when Adam was at Cabeswater. But the prospect of school as well as everything else Ronan had to worry about meant that he didn’t really feel up for inflicting his mood on other people.

Also, he now strongly suspected that Noah _knew,_ and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction by just showing up as usual while Adam was at work.

As a result, he didn’t see Adam all week.

At St. Agnes on Sunday, Ronan sat closest to the exit and led his brothers out of church at the end of the service. He took his time because he knew Declan was going to try and talk to him again, and if he couldn’t avoid it then he was at least going to do his utmost to delay the inevitable. He meandered slowly down the aisle, taking no small amount of pleasure in the fact that he could practically _feel_ Declan working himself into a frenzy behind him.

“Ronan,” Declan said sharply as soon as they were outside and firmly in the small parking lot. Off sacred ground, so to speak, although Ronan was prepared to argue this on a technicality if necessary.

Ronan didn’t respond to his brother, his attention already drifting, unavoidably, towards the church office and the outside steps that led up to Adam Parrish’s little apartment. And then his attention _stayed_ there, because sitting halfway down the concrete stairs with his legs dangling over the edge and his arms perched loosely on the railings was Adam himself.

The fact that Adam was sitting outside right at the moment everyone who had attended Sunday Mass would be leaving seemed important. There was something so very intentional about this.

Adam was very clearly waiting for Ronan.

He lifted his hand in a half-wave when he realised Ronan had spotted him. Ronan nodded back.

 _"Ronan,”_ Declan said again.

“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, dickhead,” Ronan replied without looking away from Adam. He suddenly realised he’d accidentally spoken to Declan when he’d been doing so well at _not_ doing that. Seeing Adam had distracted him.

Declan stepped up to Ronan’s side and followed his gaze. “What does Parrish want?”

“The fuck should I know?” Ronan said with a casual shrug, like his heart wasn’t currently beating out of his chest. “But I s’pose I should go and find out.” He stepped away.

“Ronan, would you just wait for a second?” Declan said, lunging forward and grabbing Ronan’s arm.

“For _what?”_ Ronan yanked his arm out of Declan’s grip, but he stopped and sighed, and finally deigned to face his brother. This also put Matthew in his line of sight, hovering behind Declan and darting anxious glances between his siblings. It was enough to get Ronan to rein in his temper just a little as he bit out, “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything _from_ you,” Declan said, exasperated, and this close Ronan could see how exhausted he looked. “It’s just. . . c’mon, bro, you know what it is.” Ronan bristled but didn’t reply. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say with Matthew in earshot. Declan bulled on: “We ask you to come round for lunch every week and you never do. So, come? Mom would really like it.”

Mentioning Aurora and calling Ronan ‘bro’ like they were still pals was grossly unfair and Declan knew it. Whenever Matthew made Ronan feel guilty it was always an inadvertent side-effect; never intentional. When Declan did it, it was malicious.

The thing was, Declan knew that the only reason Ronan never showed up was because of _him_ and so he was trying to manipulate him another way. It was quite an effective tactic, because Ronan would go to great lengths not to upset his mother. But then again, it wasn’t like he never spent any time with her. Quite the contrary in fact. It was just always when Declan wasn’t around to see it.

Ronan glanced at Matthew who nodded his earnest encouragement, and he almost, _almost_ relented. But he was still no closer to figuring out what the hell Declan knew that the rest of them didn’t, and he wasn’t prepared to sit down at a table with Declan just so that he could pretend at playing happy families in front of their mother and Matthew where Ronan was less likely to make a scene. Where he couldn’t escape. It was a game Ronan didn’t want to play.

He couldn’t say no outright; not with Matthew looking at him so imploringly. “Not today,” he said instead, taking a subtle step backwards. Matthew’s face fell; Declan’s turned to thunder.

“Ronan, don’t be a dick.”

“Fuck off, I’m not. Look, I’ve gotta—” he gestured over his shoulder towards Adam. “I’ll see you later, Matty,” he said, whirling around again without offering Declan a goodbye as he made a hasty retreat towards Adam. He heard Matthew call out a forlorn, “See ya, pal,” but he tried to ignore the spike of guilt.

Instead of heading around and up the stairs to meet Adam, Ronan stopped in front of him. At the height Adam was sitting, Ronan’s head came up to about his knee level. It was strange having to crane his neck up to meet Adam’s eyes.

“Did you have plans with your brothers?” Adam asked.

Ronan shook his head. “Have they gone?”

Adam lifted his gaze and scanned the parking lot as Ronan listened to cars start and make their exits. Adam watched for a minute, waited a beat, then nodded. “Yup. They’re gone. Everyone’s gone.”

“Good.” Ronan had a sudden urge to link his arm around Adam’s dangling calf and rest his temple against Adam’s knee. It was near overwhelming, so much so that he combated it by shoving his hands into the pockets of his fancy Sunday best trousers, squeezing them into fists. He stepped forward and pressed his forehead against the cool concrete of the staircase wall and closed his eyes.

Adam allowed Ronan the silence for almost twenty seconds before he broke it with a casual, “Only another week of summer vacation until school starts up again.”

Ronan groaned. “Don’t fucking remind me.”

Adam changed tack. “How was church?”

“You’d know if you had come in.”

“Nah,” Adam said. “Not my thing.”

Ronan snorted. “Heathen,” he said, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He let the soothing cold of the concrete against his skin ground him, bring him back from the near miss of an argument with Declan. Guilt still swirled in his stomach; Matthew had looked upset, and Aurora surely would have enjoyed having all three of her boys under one roof for a change.

Maybe he should have agreed to lunch. What was the harm, really?

A tentative hand settling on his head drove all thoughts of Declan out of Ronan’s mind and he froze, both unable and unwilling to move. Adam’s thumb began moving in tiny little gentle circles in the short bristles of Ronan’s hair and Ronan held his breath. He felt certain that moving would shatter the moment entirely and so he stayed where he was, under Adam’s thumb, wondering if he was now so far gone that he was imagining things.

Several seconds later— soon, too soon— Adam broke contact, and Ronan exhaled slowly. When he was sure his expression would be neutral, he opened his eyes and stepped back away from the wall. Adam’s hands were safely back in his lap, and he was looking at Ronan, utterly inscrutable.

“You seem stressed,” he remarked mildly.

Despite everything, Ronan grinned. “It’s the stress,” he said.

Adam smiled back, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. He dropped Ronan’s gaze. “You’ve been MIA all week. What’s going on with you, Ronan?” he asked his knees.

Immediately, Ronan’s own grin faded away. _Nothing_ was the answer he wanted to give, but it also wasn’t the truth, and Adam would know that. But then again the truth was so huge and confusing and potentially dangerous that telling Adam just didn’t seem like a plausible option.

“I can’t tell you,” Ronan settled on in the end.

Adam looked up from his knees and regarded Ronan evenly. He tilted his head slightly to the side as he considered this and then he shrugged and smiled, self-deprecatingly. “Well, you _can,”_ he said. “You can tell me anything, and I would have hoped that you knew that by now. And I’m assuming you do. So it’s not that you _can’t_ tell me, it’s that you _won’t.”_

Ronan gritted his teeth. He wanted Adam’s hand back on his head, but he didn’t know how to ask for that, or if he was even allowed to. He felt like he’d hurt Adam’s feelings without meaning to, and bitterness rose up in him instead. Everyone wanted something from him today. “Alright then, Parrish, fine, you’re right. I fucking won’t.”

A silence, heavy and charged, reigned supreme for an uncomfortably long minute. Then Adam shrugged again, resigned.

“Okay,” he said with another nod, then got to his feet. He walked—not stomped—up the remaining stairs to his front door, but Ronan still recognised this for what it was: a very quiet, very Adam Parrish way of storming off. That Adam was merely walking away instead of pushing Ronan even further meant that he was probably too tired—or maybe too upset— to try. As Adam went inside his apartment and closed the door again behind him, something heavy settled in Ronan’s chest. Something likely to remain and fester unless he tried to fix it.

Ronan stubbornly refrained from calling out for Adam to come back down, but that didn’t stop him from lingering next to the stairs for a little while. Just a few minutes earlier, Adam had placed his hand on Ronan’s head and offered soothing comfort without even knowing what was wrong; without even needing to be asked. And now Ronan was alone in the St. Agnes car park.

It felt too pathetic to stay any longer, so Ronan pushed off from the wall and started towards the BMW with his hands in his pockets. He was halfway across the parking lot when he heard Adam’s voice call his name, and he turned around.

Adam was standing just outside his door, leaning forwards with his arms propped on the railings. “If you ever decide to get your head out of your ass,” he said, “I’ll be here.”

He looked somewhat exasperated and maybe a little embarrassed at his own words, but he also seemed genuinely concerned. Ronan wondered how Adam had known he was still out there; if he’d been listening for the car, or if he’d come back out for another reason and just happened to spot Ronan finally leaving. Either way, Adam didn’t need to have said anything else to Ronan, especially if he was annoyed, so the fact that he _had_...

The weight in Ronan’s chest lifted, just a little. He considered Adam and cocked his head to the side. “You working today?”

“No.”

Ronan smiled. He pulled his car keys out of his pocket and tossed them in the air, catching them decisively. He jerked his head towards the BMW.

“Fancy a drive, Parrish?”

 

* * *

 

 

They stopped briefly at Monmouth so that Ronan could get changed, and then they hit the road again.

They didn’t speak. Adam had the window rolled down, his elbow propped on the edge of it as he gazed out and the breeze ruffled at his hair. Ronan turned his music loud, his heartbeat matching the booming base as they drove out of Henrietta.

Ronan didn’t know where he was taking them, until he suddenly _did._

Adam had nodded off at some point and woke up with a jolt when Ronan killed the engine and the music abruptly stopped. Gansey had once said that he didn’t understand how Adam could sleep through Ronan’s ‘noise’, but Ronan understood that Adam could sleep through _anything_ because he didn’t get _enough_ sleep. There weren’t enough hours in the day for Adam Parrish; something had to give.

“Where are we?” Adam asked, peering around with a frown.

“Junkyard,” Ronan said, opening his door.

Adam looked up at the sign which read _Jones & Jones Junkyard_. “I think Boyd uses this place for parts.”

Ronan nodded; that made sense. “C’mon.”

He stepped out and slammed his door and took off towards the chicken-wire gate without looking behind him. He heard the passenger door open and shut and then Adam’s footsteps as he hurried to catch up with Ronan. “What are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.” Ronan tugged on the gate but it was locked, and he remembered it was Sunday, so it was closed. He looked at Adam and raised his eyebrows. “Nothing else for it then,” he said, and started to climb the fence.

 _“Lynch_ , what are you _doing?”_ Adam hissed.

It didn’t take long for Ronan to climb over the top and he jumped the last couple of feet to the ground on the other side. He stared at Adam through the fence and gave him a look that he knew Adam would take as the challenge it was.

Adam glared. He crossed his arms. He uncrossed them. He sighed. He started to climb.

“That’s the spirit,” Ronan said. Adam muttered under his breath as he climbed over. Ronan didn’t catch all of it but he heard _arrested_ and _permanent record_ and _Ronan fucking Lynch._ He smiled, turning his face away before Adam would see.

“Y’know, I’m _pretty_ sure this is illegal,” Adam said sarcastically when he landed.

“What is?”

“Breaking and entering.”

Ronan shrugged. “We didn’t break anything.”

“We hopped a fence,” Adam said crossly. “I think a case could be made.”

Ronan led the way to the little square building that acted as the junkyard office. “Is it still breaking and entering if I know where the spare key is hidden?” he asked over his shoulder, then lifted a small plant pot to the left of the door and picked up a key.

Adam still looked confused and wary, and Ronan rolled his eyes. “Relax, Parrish. I know the owner. He was good friends with my dad, I used to come here all the time. He won’t mind that we’re here as long as we don’t steal anything.”

Adam sighed and looked skyward. “You could have led with that, maybe.”

“Sure,” Ronan agreed easily. “But where’s the fun in that?” He opened the office door and went inside where he found the key for the padlock on the main gate hanging off a hook on the wall.

He took it off the hook and headed back outside and towards the gate, Adam trailing him. Ronan got the gate open and passed Adam his car keys. “Bring the BMW in and follow this track right the way down there.” He pointed and Adam followed his gaze. “There’s a dirt track down there. I’ll meet you in a couple of minutes.”

“What are we doing?” Adam asked suspiciously.

“You’ll _see,”_ Ronan repeated. “Have a little faith, Parrish.”

Adam bit back on whatever retort he was surely dying to make, and instead got into the car. Seeing Adam in the driver's seat of the BMW did things to Ronan, but it was a little easier when he wasn’t in the car _with_ him. Teaching Adam to drive stick at the beginning of the summer had certainly been. . . something. Lessons that, in retrospect, had been entirely necessary; the shitbox was also a stick-shift.

Ronan held the gate open while Adam drove through and then shut it again and padlocked it securely, not wanting to invite any passersby in. He went back to the office to return the padlock key to its hook.

Back out in the main junkyard it didn’t take long for Ronan to find what he was looking for, and a couple of minutes later he met back up with Adam and the BMW further down the track. He was pushing along a moving dolly and had chucked a tow strap on top.

Adam watched his approach, but said nothing until Ronan stopped just behind the car. “Why do I get the feeling this is going to end in scabs?” he asked.

“Because it probably _is,_ Parrish,” Ronan said. He picked up the tow strap and placed it in Adam’s hands. “Make yourself useful.”

 

* * *

 

 

They took it in turns pulling each other along on the dolly behind the BMW; tentative at first in case the tow strap gave way, but gradually gaining both speed and confidence. The track that they were on was made of dirt so was more forgiving than tarmac would have been when they inevitably took tumbles.

The grazes still hurt, but it was worth it because they were from doing something _fun._ It was worth it to hear Adam’s laughter. It was worth it to hear his own, unencumbered by bitterness, his proper laugh, that snuck up on him so rarely these days. The kind of laughter that came from your chest and made it hard to breathe.

After almost an hour of this, Ronan had another idea.

Nearer the back of the junkyard lot, past the dirt track they’d been using, was some empty land that sloped downwards. It wasn’t steep, but with wheels, gravity, and Ronan’s dogged determination to go _fast,_ it would do.

He unhooked the tow strap from both the car and the dolly and then started rolling it across until he reached the top of the slope. Adam, who was sitting on the dolly as Ronan pushed it along, peered down the slope and then back up at Ronan.

“Does this seem like a particularly good idea?” he said, sounding resigned.

“Parrish, it’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever had,” Ronan replied with a grin.

Adam huffed a laugh. “Oh, well in _that_ case,” he said. He looked back down the little hill, then bit his lip. He shook his head. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t have enough space to jump on, the bar’s in the way. You’ll just overbalance us immediately.”

Ronan considered Adam’s reasoning and decided he was right. The _point_ was to crash, but not before they reached the bottom. “Alright, science guy, what do you suggest?”

Adam stood up and scanned the junkyard behind them. His gaze hooked on something, and he pointed. “That,” he said.

Ronan turned around until he spotted what Adam was pointing at. It was a shopping cart. There was a couple of them dotted about the place as they were useful for transporting smaller scraps of metal, and Ronan couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of them earlier. “Good find, Parrish.”

Adam hopped off the dolly and Ronan pulled it back over to the main junkyard, swapping it out for the shopping cart. When he got it back over to Adam, Adam didn’t even need to be prompted; he hopped straight in.

Adam grabbed onto the side of the cart, then rethought that move and wrapped his arms around himself instead. “This is stupid,” he said.

“I know,” Ronan said with a pleased grin, and he pushed off.

As they were on a slant, he didn’t need too much of a run up, and as soon as the cart started down Ronan leapt on the back, swearing long and loud. They picked up speed surprisingly quickly, the bottom approaching already. Just before they hit the edge, Ronan shifted his weight and the cart toppled over onto its side. Adam tumbled out and rolled to a stop, and Ronan let go of the cart as soon as Adam was clear. He slid the rest of the way down on his side, his top riding up and grazing his skin.

He finally stopped and rolled onto his back, laughing.

“God,” he heard Adam saying. “God, I can feel my teeth.”

When Ronan got his breath back, he called, “Alright there, Parrish?” without looking around.

“What a wonderful field trip this has been, thank you, Ronan,” Adam said dryly, and Ronan started laughing again.

“Anytime,” he said cheerfully. His heart felt full for the first time in months.

He was happy, Ronan realised. In this moment, he was happy. Senselessly, joyfully, happy.

And it wasn’t about being self-destructive; not this time. It was about being free and reckless, and completely head over heels for this boy who may or may not have any idea, but it was okay. It didn’t matter right now, Ronan could figure it out later.

It was enough for now to just be silly and young with Adam, like the kids that they were, as if nothing bad had ever happened and nothing bad ever _could_ happen. It was a fantasy, one Ronan so badly wanted to stay in.

But like all good things, it couldn’t last.

Ronan picked himself up and dusted himself down, then helped Adam to his feet. He inspected Adam’s new scrapes and then his own. He brushed dust out of Adam’s hair, a touch he wasn’t sure would be welcomed until Adam closed his eyes and leaned into it, ever so slightly.

Ronan swallowed and lowered his hand. “Time to go, Parrish.”

Adam opened his eyes and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Again, they didn’t speak.

They wordlessly took the shopping cart back to where they found it, they wordlessly returned the tow strap and the moving dolly, and Ronan wordlessly passed Adam the keys to the BMW. He went back to the office to get the padlock key and then let Adam out. He shut the gate and secured the padlock again, then returned the key to the hook in the office.

While he was in there, Ronan scribbled a note on a post-it just to say that he’d been there with a friend. Then he locked the office and placed the key back under the plant pot. By the time Ronan had climbed back over the fence, Adam had already moved into the passenger seat. He said nothing when Ronan got in, and Ronan got them back on the road and speeding away so fast anyone would think they were being tailed.

Which, Ronan thought with an anxious glance in his rear-view mirror, wasn’t entirely out of the question.

There was nothing there. Ronan turned his music up and refocused on the road before him.

Ronan had spent the whole afternoon with Adam and had been blissfully unaware of anything else. He hadn’t thought about Declan, or the Gray man, or his father and the secret that had got him killed and that was ruining everything else as well.

Stolen hours where nothing hurt. Ronan wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he had his proof now.

The silence between him and Adam grew as Ronan sped back to Henrietta. Adam didn’t fall asleep this time. Ronan kept glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, always careful to look away again when Adam looked like he was going to catch him at it.

This silence, unlike the one from the car ride on the way to the junkyard, was huge and suffocating in a way that made Ronan itch all over. He wanted to break it but he didn’t know what to say when actions were always so much easier. He didn’t want to somehow say the wrong thing and taint the day they’d just had.

He wanted _Adam_ to say something. But Adam was now looking studiously out the window and playing with his watch strap.

They reached the edges of Henrietta and instead of heading back to St. Agnes to drop Adam off, Ronan took them the route to Monmouth instead. He needed to feed Chainsaw, and besides, he wasn’t ready to end his day with Adam yet. Adam must have noticed but he didn’t ask, so he obviously didn’t object.

Ronan pulled into the Monmouth lot and parked. A cursory glance told him the Pig wasn’t there, which likely meant Gansey was out with Blue. Ronan didn’t know when he was going to be back.

He turned the engine off and the BMW fell silent. Neither of the boys moved, as if both were waiting to see what the other would do.

After a day like today, Ronan felt like he could do _anything._

He took a breath.

“I need to tell you something, Parrish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this was a lesson in how much pynch goodness i could squeeze in without actually having them KISS. my self-restraint was so good you have no idea how tempted i was.
> 
> also i really like giving canon stuff new context. but you know how early in trb when it mentions the moving dolly incident and says ronan and adam had been taking turns dragging each other behind the bmw, but later on in the same book ronan is teaching adam to drive the bmw? i realise it's probably just a continuity error but it BUGS me.
> 
> as always thank you to veronicahague for reining in my many british-isms lol <3
> 
> chapter title is from the song like kids by suede, which definitely gives me some pynch vibes.


	8. I Predict A Riot

Adam undid his seatbelt and twisted slightly in the passenger seat, his attention on Ronan. He didn’t say anything, just waited.

Ronan clenched his hands on the steering wheel, then dropped them into his lap.  _I need to tell you something_ he’d said, but now he didn’t know where to start.

“What is it?” Adam prompted quietly, obviously sensing Ronan’s struggle.

Ronan shrugged. He forced flippancy into his voice; it was the only way he’d be able to say it. “It’s—it’s whatever, Parrish. My dad was probably doing something illegal and that’s what got him killed, and Declan knows something and whatever it  _is_ is probably why we’re not allowed to go home. Oh, and there’s some guy watching me and my family and reporting back to his boss who is probably some. . . I dunno, some, like, big bad of fucking video game proportions. So. There’s that.” He pointedly didn’t look at Adam as he spoke, and slumped lower in his seat when he was finished. He felt deflated.

Adam let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. That’s—that’s a  _lot.”_

Ronan grunted. “You don’t fucking say.”

It went quiet again, and every few seconds Ronan stole glances at Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam was staring straight ahead but not focusing on anything, a furrow in his brow as he worked his way through his thoughts.

“I have questions,” Adam finally said, and glanced at Ronan.

“Okay.” Ronan opened the door. “Come on up.”

 

* * *

 

 

There wasn’t much in the way of food in Monmouth, but they had just enough ingredients for Ronan to scrounge together a basic mac and cheese. There were no clean bowls, so he and Adam each grabbed a fork and ate straight from the pan.

Once they had finished eating, they went into Ronan’s room. Adam sat cross-legged on Ronan’s bed, and after Ronan had fed Chainsaw, he sat opposite, with Chainsaw in his hands. He felt calmer about having to answer Adam’s questions if he was gently stroking her feathers.

Adam’s questions were pretty much what Ronan had expected them to be: he went over each of the points Ronan had so flippantly thrown out into the air between them and asked him to explain in more detail. This meant that Ronan had to tell him that he’d been to the Barns. Gansey probably would have gasped dramatically at hearing this, but Adam just nodded in understanding and said, “I figured you'd go there eventually.”

Of course, Ronan then had to go on and explain being caught by the Gray man and the cryptic conversation that had followed, which Ronan himself was still trying to piece together.

 _“Jesus_ , Ronan,” Adam said. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Ronan shook his head. “He didn’t hurt me. He could have, if he wanted to. That was clear.”

“But he didn’t want to.”

“No. Honestly, I think the only reason he even made his presence known to me at all was to fucking  _warn_ me.”

Adam frowned. “Warn you what?”

“I don’t know, Parrish,” Ronan snapped, suddenly exasperated. “To keep my nose out? Even though this is all definitely my fucking business when it’s about my fucking dad and my fucking home and my fucking  _brother—”_ He broke off with a frustrated sigh, and Chainsaw made a distressed little noise in his hands. She didn’t like it when he was upset. He quietly soothed her and murmured a quiet apology, ignoring the intense way that Adam was watching him.

Ronan got up and took Chainsaw back over to her cage. When she was safely inside, he washed his hands, but instead of sitting back down, he lay down flat on his back on the floor next to his bed instead. He closed his eyes.

“So, to sum up,” Adam said, “one: you think your dad did something illegal, and/or got mixed up with the wrong people and that led to his death. Two: Declan was either in on it, or was at least told enough about it to want to keep it secret from you and the rest of your family. Three: you’re being watched by someone who calls himself Mr Gray who has told you to keep your head down until it all blows over. And four: Mr Gray works for someone who’s looking for something your father had, and there might be others like him who are also looking for. . . whatever it is, but we don’t know how many or how dangerous they are. That about cover it?”

There was something soothing about hearing the analytical way in which Adam laid it all out. It made it seem more manageable somehow; Ronan’s thoughts were always so jumbled. “Just about,” he said.

“And this is what you wouldn’t tell me earlier?”

Adam’s voice sounded closer and Ronan opened his eyes. Adam was peering at him over the side of the bed. There was something else, technically, that Ronan could also choose to divulge to Adam. But he didn’t want to; not now. He nodded.

“What changed your mind?” Adam asked.

Eye-contact was too much; Ronan shut his eyes again. “You did,” he said, hoping Adam wouldn’t ask him to elaborate.

He didn’t.

“What did Gansey say when you told him?”

Ronan hesitated. “I haven’t.”

Adam’s eyes widened a fraction, just for a second. “Wait, really?”

Ronan shrugged. “I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“So I’m the only one who knows?”

“You’re the only one I’ve told,” Ronan confirmed. He watched Adam take this information in, turn it around, process it. Ronan needed to tell Gansey at some point, he knew that. But he’d reached his limit for today, and he knew his secrets were safe with Adam.

They stayed in companionable silence for another couple of minutes, before the unmistakable sound of the Pig rumbled into the parking lot below them. Their little private bubble was about to be burst.

“Adam,” Ronan said, and he sat up. “What do I do now?”

“I think,” Adam started carefully, which meant Ronan wasn’t going to like where this was going, “that you need to talk to Declan.”

Ronan scowled. “I’ve  _tried,_ it doesn’t get me anywhere. I ask, he tells me nothing.”

“Okay, but have you tried asking him in a. . . non-antagonistic sort of way?” Adam said patiently. “Or have you just thrown out accusations that are gonna make him defensive no matter how true they are?”

“I—” Ronan cut off his own argument; Adam knew him too well. He could already hear Gansey’s footsteps on the stairs. “Are you telling me I have to ask him  _nicely?”_

Adam shrugged, an amused half smile on his face. “It couldn’t hurt,” he said.

Ronan groaned. “It fucking  _could.”_

Adam stood up just as the door to Monmouth opened and shut. “It’s just a thought, Ronan. I’d rather you try and get information from your brother than from potentially dangerous individuals with fake names.” He headed for Ronan’s door.

Ronan caught Adam’s ankle lightly as he walked by and Adam stopped, looking down at Ronan with a quirked eyebrow. “Do you need a ride, Parrish?” Ronan asked gruffly.

“It’s okay, I’ll ask Gansey. I—” He broke off abruptly when there was a knock at the door. Ronan let go of his ankle. “I had fun today. Thank you,” he said quietly, then opened the door.

“Adam!” Gansey said warmly. “I didn’t know you were here.” He peered past Adam and into the room. “Have you been hanging out with Ronan?”

Ronan raised his hand in a half-hearted wave.

“Yeah,” Adam said, then started moving out the door and pulling it closed behind him, effectively shepherding Gansey away. “Can you give me a ride home?” Ronan heard him asking just before his bedroom door clicked shut.

This was a gift, Ronan realised. Adam was removing himself and Gansey from Ronan’s space, at least for the amount of time it would take Gansey to take Adam to St. Agnes and back. It wasn’t long, but just enough time for Ronan to be able to at least half-process the day’s events and the conversation he and Adam had just had.

It was incredibly thoughtful, but the way Adam had orchestrated it also looked incredibly suspicious. Gansey was going to think they’d fought.

Ronan stood up and then face-planted on his bed. So Adam thought he needed to talk to Declan again, in a somewhat more. . . diplomatic way than he had done so far. It was easy, in theory.

In practice? It would be like pulling teeth. His  _own_ teeth.

 

* * *

 

 

The last week of summer vacation—much like  _every_ last week of summer vacation since the dawn of time—passed by quickly. Far too quickly.

Ronan tried to make the most of it. He lifted his own personal ban on bothering Adam at work, perching on the counter at Cabeswater while Adam put away the new stock and tidied the shop floor.

“Y’know, as you’re already  _here,_ you could always  _help,”_ Adam said dryly.

“Hmm, I hear you, but no can do, Parrish. I’m busy,” Ronan replied. He was not, in fact, busy. He was making Matthew a friendship bracelet out of a kit that Noah had found in the back room of Cabeswater, old stock that had never sold. “Besides, you get paid for it. What would  _I_ get out of it?”

“That warm fuzzy feeling that comes from helping a friend?”

Ronan snorted. “Sounds great, sign me up,” he said derisively, looking up just in time to see Adam’s eye-roll and slight smile.

“Get off the counter. You’re making the place look untidy.”

“Yes, boss,” Ronan said, sliding off the counter with a sarcastic salute.

In the first half of the week, if Ronan wasn’t at Cabeswater, then he was with Gansey. History nerd that he was, Gansey had been reading up on the legend of the Welsh king Owen Glendower, who was supposedly buried somewhere in the area. So Ronan spent a few afternoons with Gansey traipsing around the countryside and letting Gansey rattle off theories one after the other.

Gansey loved mysteries. He loved research and exploring and the effort it took to find things. It was never about the destination with Gansey, but the journey.

Just before the weekend, Gansey had to head back to Georgetown to his parent’s mansion for what sounded like little more than a glorified tea-party. More political crap for Mrs Gansey’s campaign run. But the point was that on Friday afternoon when Adam was at Boyd’s and Gansey was out of town, Ronan somehow found himself with Blue, helping her walk the dogs for people too rich to do it themselves.

It was the first time he had ever spent any time with Blue on his own, and he wasn’t quite sure how it had happened.

Ronan was put in charge of two of the dogs, the happy Pitbull who had sat on his feet on the day he and Gansey had gotten into a tangle outside Cabeswater, and a little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who had a permanent frown on her face.

“Her name is Joy,” Blue said wryly.

“Fitting,” Ronan said.

The Pitbull was called Harvey and stopped to say hello to  _everyone_ they passed on the street, meaning it took them half an hour just to get to the park, which should have only taken ten minutes at the most.

Blue had the leashes of the other two dogs; little yappy, fluffy things that Ronan wasn’t sure the breed of. They were called Rocky and George, but Ronan wasn’t sure which was which.

The park was virtually empty. Blue and Ronan sat down on a bench and let the dogs off the leashes, obligingly throwing sticks for their excitable companions. Harvey ran around in erratic circles for a little while and then came back to sit down, nosing against Ronan’s knee. Ronan scratched him behind the ears; he seemed happy enough.

This was, Ronan thought, the kind of activity that Adam would enjoy.

“You should invite Parrish sometime,” he said to Blue, inflecting his voice with as much nonchalance as he could muster.

“I’ll do that,” she said earnestly.

Ronan glanced at her and then away again just as quickly, because she was looking at him in the way he’d seen Noah looking at him. It wasn’t pity, mercifully. It was quiet understanding, but even that was hard to bear in its own way. Ronan felt  _seen._

He still didn’t want to talk about the Adam of it all with anyone else. Possibly not even with Adam. Not yet.

Before Blue could ask, he changed the subject. “So.  _Jane.”_ He jostled her lightly in the side with his elbow.

“Oh  _stop,”_ Blue said. “It sounds weird when you say it.”

“Yeah?” Ronan grinned. “What does it sound like when  _Gansey_ says it?”

Blue glared, but Ronan didn’t miss the faint blush that rose on her cheeks. “Ronan,” she warned.

He laughed. “Alright, alright. Are you like, official then? Are you invited to the next Gansey political party as his arm-candy?”

“Excuse  _you,_ Ronan Lynch, I am  _no one’s_ arm-candy.” Blue shoved Ronan and rolled her eyes, then shrugged expansively. “We haven’t exactly had the conversation.”

“Do you fucking need it? You’ve been seeing each other, what, every fucking day? For weeks now? Seems pretty official to me.”

“And you’re such an expert, are you?” Blue snapped. She picked up the stick Rocky or George had just deposited at her feet and threw it with rather more force than she had previously. Ronan sensed that he’d touched a nerve.

It wasn’t fair of him to ask, he realised belatedly. Especially not when he was using it as a diversion away from being asked about his own pathetic love life. Not that he could even call it that; nothing had happened, not really. Probably nothing was  _going_ to happen, and the sooner Ronan could get that through his head then maybe he could let it go and move on from Adam.

Just thinking about it made him miserable.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, Sargent, lower your pitchfork. It’s your business.” He stood up and scanned the park. “Hey, Jolly!” he called at the little spaniel.

“It’s  _Joy,”_ Blue said, but she was smiling again.

“Yeah whatever—Joy! C’mere you little runt.” Joy came bounding over and sniffed at Ronan’s shoes while he reattached her leash, and then Harvey’s. Blue did the same to Rocky and George and together they set off back down the path.

“You know,” Blue said thoughtfully, “you’re not such terrible company, after all.”

Ronan smirked. “Thanks.  _Maggot.”_

“Okay, fuck you, I take it back.”

 

* * *

 

 

On Sunday afternoon, Ronan left Monmouth and walked over to the Lynch apartment.

He’d thought about what Adam had said about attempting to get the truth out of Declan all week, and in the end had decided to give it a go. He extended an olive branch, texting Declan to say that he would finally be making an appearance at Sunday lunch.

Afterwards, Ronan had phoned Aurora to let her know, and to ask her if it was okay if he invited Adam, Gansey, and Blue. She was, of course, more than happy to accommodate the extra people, and Ronan felt a little better knowing that at the very least, his mom would be in good spirits on the day.

The truth was that Ronan needed his friends there as a buffer between him and Declan. He was going to try his utmost to play nicely all throughout the meal and then take Declan aside later on and have a quiet word. He didn’t think he’d be able to do it without the others there as a distraction, as somewhere else to focus his attention. Not to mention their presence would make it more difficult for Declan to goad Ronan openly.

Declan seemed to have taken Ronan inviting his friends as some sort of a challenge, however, because Ronan had found out that morning at St. Agnes that Declan had invited Ashley in retaliation. Ashley was the latest in Declan’s long string of girlfriends. Ronan hadn’t met her yet but didn’t want to; she wouldn’t last long because they never  _did,_ so Ronan didn’t see the point in getting to know her at all. And also, he couldn’t understand how Declan seemed able to just flit from girl to girl without reason or consequence. It didn’t make any sense.

Ronan arrived at the apartment and let himself in. The first thing he noticed was the door to the living room shut, with the low sound of the TV and Declan’s familiar voice talking to an unfamiliar female one. So Ronan would avoid that room for now, then.

The second thing he noticed was his mother’s laughter coming from the kitchen. It lifted his spirits immediately, and he made his way through.

 _Fly Me to the Moon_ was playing on the radio, and Matthew was spinning Aurora around the kitchen. He had two left feet but he more than made up for it with enthusiasm, and it was this that had Aurora laughing.

Aurora spotted Ronan over Matthew’s shoulder and her eyes lit up. She reached for him. “Sweetheart! Come and dance with me.”

Ronan would be damned if he was going to sully her mood. “Well,” he said with a drawn out sigh,  _“someone’s_ got to show Matthew how it’s done.”

 _“Hey,”_ Matthew said, but with good humour.

Aurora patted his cheek. “You’re perfect, my angel,” she said, and Matthew beamed.

Ronan offered Aurora his hand and she took it, grinning. For the rest of the song they danced through the kitchen.

“You’re very good at this,” Aurora said approvingly. “You haven’t stepped on my feet once.”

This was clearly a light barb at Matthew, and Ronan said, “Matty has all the grace of a baby deer.”

“Come on, guys, I’m  _right_ here,” Matthew complained, making his mom and brother laugh.

It wasn’t until the song ended and they stopped dancing that Ronan noticed Declan hovering in the doorway, watching. He looked a little wistful and something in Ronan clenched uncomfortably.

“Looks like I missed the dance party,” Declan said when he realised Ronan had noticed him. Ronan felt bad, and then he shoved it down. If Declan felt isolated, then it was because he had isolated  _himself._ Ronan wasn’t even living in the same house as the rest of his family anymore, and yet he still managed to spend quality time with them. At least when Declan wasn’t there.

But then again, maybe Declan felt isolated because Ronan actively went out of his way  _not_ to share the same space. Ronan shook his head as if to dislodge the thought. Today was not about feeling guilty.

“I’ll dance with you any time, my little love,” Aurora said, smiling brightly at her eldest son, and he smiled back, the most honest expression Ronan had seen on him in a long time.

All three Lynch brothers had their own terms of endearment gifted from their mother. Matthew was her angel; Ronan was her sweetheart, her sweet boy (the irony of which was not lost on her middle son); Declan was her little love. Matthew had been angelic since the day he was born, so Ronan couldn’t fault Aurora for this assessment, but he had, once upon a time, been jealous of Declan’s. He worried it meant that Declan was her favourite. It took a while to understand that it was because Declan was the oldest; he’d been in her heart the longest.

They were all Aurora’s little loves, but Declan was the  _first_ one. Aurora didn’t play favourites with her children. Not like Niall.

A pretty blonde with immaculate make-up and a perfect manicure sidled up to Declan in the doorway, and it was work for Ronan not to roll his eyes. Declan certainly had a type. She smiled tentatively at Ronan; he was the only one she hadn’t met.

Before Declan could formally introduce them, Ronan icily said, “It’s Ashley, right? It’s so hard to keep track of all Dec’s girlfriends.” He punctuated it with a smile that he knew wasn’t friendly.

With the exception of Matthew’s tiny gasp, the following silence was absolute. Ashley’s smile had dropped immediately and Declan looked seconds away from throwing a punch. Ronan almost felt satisfied, and then he remembered that antagonising Declan was the exact opposite of what he was supposed to be doing today. And  _then_ he remembered that Aurora was still within earshot.

“I’m so sorry, Ashley,” she said. “It seems Ronan dropped his manners. Perhaps he needs to go and look for them.” She turned a look on him that he knew meant business and raised an eyebrow that spoke volumes.

“Sorry, Ashley,” he gritted out, looking at the floor.

Then, mercifully, the doorbell rang out, and Ronan jumped at the opportunity to answer it. He barged past Declan who hissed, “You’re  _such_ a little asshole.” Aurora had to have heard and would normally pick him up for swearing, but then again she might think Ronan deserved that one.

He opened the front door and was greeted by Gansey, Adam, and Blue. All three seemed to have brought something with them. Gansey had a bottle of wine that he must have taken from his parent’s collection, Blue had what smelled like pie in a Tupperware, and Adam had a very small bouquet of flowers.

Ronan grinned. “They for me, Parrish?”

Adam scowled. “They’re for your mom.”

It was a nice touch, from all three of them. Ronan was abruptly pleased with his choice of friends. He waved them in. “C’mon in,” he said.

Gansey and Blue went ahead and Adam fell into step beside Ronan. “How’s it going?” he whispered.

“Bad,” Ronan whispered back.  _“So_ bad. I fucked up already.”

“Wha— _how?”_ Adam asked, incredulous, but they were already practically in the kitchen and Declan was watching them.

“I’ll tell you later.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch actually went surprisingly well. Inviting his friends along had definitely been a good decision, because between Gansey, Blue, Matthew and Aurora, they carried most of the conversation on their own. Ashley even added her input here and there, although she and Ronan never directly spoke to each other and sat at completely opposite ends of the table. Declan had made sure of that.

Adam didn’t say much either, only really speaking if he was directly asked a question. He kept calling Aurora ‘ma’am’ even though she gently insisted he call her Aurora. At the end of the meal, Declan asked Adam about his post-Aglionby plans and Ronan immediately got up to start clearing the table.

No one immediately had room for dessert, so Aurora was sent off to the living room in the company of Blue and Ashley while the boys all started to clean up. At some point, Declan disappeared outside and Ronan watched him through the window as he made a phone-call. It didn’t last long, and when he’d hung up Adam gave Ronan a meaningful look.

Ronan sighed, left the others to the washing up, and followed his brother outside.

Declan was leaning up against a tree but looked around when he heard Ronan approach. His expression hardened immediately, so Ronan decided to attempt a little tact.

“Look, about that thing with Ashley earlier, I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to make her feel unwelcome.”

“No, I know. You meant to show me up. Ashley was just collateral damage.”

Ronan almost winced; he hadn’t exactly thought about it that way. He didn’t know what to say. Apologising to Declan had already gone against all of Ronan’s instincts.

Declan shook his head when he realised Ronan wasn’t going to say anything. “Whatever, Ronan, I get it. For whatever it’s worth, it’s not like that with Ashley. She’s different.”

Ronan wasn’t entirely sure he believed that, but it wasn’t really any of his business. Time would tell. “Okay,” he said. “Who was on the phone?”

The slightest twitch in Declan’s expression was enough to let Ronan know he was about to be lied to. “No one. It was about my internship.” He looked up and changed the subject. “Ready for school tomorrow?”

The familiar rage started to bubble up through Ronan’s veins, desperate to explode out of him. A straight answer was all Ronan fucking wanted.

“Stop,” he snapped. “Stop—stop  _lying._ Tell me who you were talking to, tell me who Mr Gray works for, tell me who Dad got involved with that got him killed. I want to know.”

“Ronan,” Declan said dangerously. “Do me a favour and stay out of things that you don’t understand.”

Boom.

“I don’t understand because you won’t fucking  _tell_ me!” he yelled, forgetting to keep his voice down, but he was past that now. He seized the front of Declan’s shirt and shoved him back into the tree. “You  _know_ what’s going on, and  _I_ have a fucking right to know. It’s my fucking  _dad!”_

Declan, it seemed, had also reached his limit. He grabbed Ronan’s wrists and shoved them away from him, then pushed Ronan hard in the chest.

“Yeah,  _your_ dad, we all know he was  _your_ dad, Ronan, God,” Declan said with a sneer. His face had contorted in anger and something else Ronan didn’t recognise. “What about  _me?_ He was my dad, too, and I got left with all of his fucking shit to clean up while the rest of you get to move on with your lives!”

“Do we fucking  _look_ like we’ve moved on?” Ronan roared, shoving Declan back and following it up with a punch. Lynch brothers knew how to do this. They knew how to fight.

By now they had attracted the attention of everyone else who had been in the kitchen, and Gansey came running out. He yanked Ronan away from his brother, but Ronan got free and rushed Declan again.

“If you want to move on so badly then why the fuck are you staying here when you could be going off to college and leaving us all behind?”

Declan got a punch of his own in and Ronan reared back, clutching his face. Gansey took the opportunity to lock his arms around Ronan, and Ronan’s own arms were summarily pinned. He kicked his legs out but Gansey held fast.

“Ronan, stop, you’ll ruin your  _teeth,”_ he said, and some hysterical side of Ronan sort of wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the comment given the situation.

Matthew had now ventured outside, too, and had angled himself in between his brothers, a wary hand held out towards Declan as if to ward him away from getting any closer to Ronan.

Declan stayed where he was and wiped his sleeve across his bloody nose, fixing Ronan with a tortured stare. “Why am I  _staying?_ Because my  _dad_ just died, Ronan! My dad fucking died and I’m so fucking mad at him but I miss him and I just wanted to be near my family. I didn’t realise that was a fucking crime!”

Ronan went limp in Gansey’s arms, and Matthew sniffed audibly.

“Guys. . .  _please,”_ he said quietly.

“You never said any of that. You acted like you didn’t fucking care, fucking—fucking man of the house all of a sudden, like Dad didn’t even  _matter_ anymore.”

“Fuck  _you_ , Ronan, I’m sorry that I wasn’t out drinking or racing every night, but someone had to hold it together when it became pretty fucking apparent that  _you_ have the fucking monopoly on  _grief—”_ Declan broke off, breathing heavily, and Ronan was now out of immediate retorts.

That’s what it was, he realised now, the unknown emotion on Declan’s face. It was grief, finally. Declan was  _finally_ letting himself feel it.

Had it really been Ronan’s fault that he’d kept it hidden for so long?

He didn’t get a chance to think on that, because Aurora’s voice sounded from the doorway, in full-mom mode, a tone that could not be ignored.

“You two. Inside.  _Now.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter title is overdramatic, and it's also a kaiser chiefs song.
> 
> i really do love declan btw, in case anyone was wondering. but him and ronan are RIDICULOUS about each other both in canon and in this fic so i figure things between them have to come to a head before they can get any better.
> 
> also i love writing wholesome scenes between aurora and her kids, it's therapeutic i swear. in my universe she doesn't have a favourite okay fight me on this.
> 
> feel free to leave kudos and maybe even a comment if you're enjoying this! and thanks to those of you who've been sticking with me so far <3


	9. closing walls and ticking clocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the delay. this one was a struggle for no good reason in particular. some chapters are easier to write than others, and this one just about destroyed my will to live ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> but it's out now! next one should be on target for next week. i mean, hopefully.

Ronan sat alone on the floor in the living room, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. His cheek was throbbing; he hadn’t looked in the mirror yet, but he was sure he’d have quite the shiner.

Declan knew how to throw a punch, after all.

Once Aurora had ordered them both inside, she’d banished them to separate rooms and told them to wait for her. Declan, Ronan assumed, was in his own room, whereas Ronan had taken the living room. He’d heard the front door close so somebody—or everybody—must have left, and Ronan was half considering sneaking out himself before his mother returned to yell at him. There’d be hell to pay later, obviously, but it would get him out of her way at least until he had a chance to fully calm down.

Before he got a chance to move, however, the living room door opened and then shut again quietly as soft footsteps padded his way. Ronan opened his eyes.

Adam Parrish stood before him with a bag of frozen peas.

He looked at Ronan. Ronan looked back. Then Adam sighed and crouched down before him, lightly pressing the bag to Ronan’s blossoming bruise.

“Y’know, when I said you should talk to Declan, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Adam said.

Somehow, Adam had found the right words to cut through the tension, and Ronan huffed out a humourless laugh. “You should’ve been more specific.”

Adam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and inched closer so he didn’t have to stretch his arm so far. He did not ask Ronan to grab the bag for himself, and Ronan made no move to do so of his own accord. The cold was an equal mix of soothing and uncomfortable, which probably meant it was doing its job.

“I heard the door go. I thought you’d gone,” Ronan said.

“That was Blue, Gansey, Ashley and Matthew. They’ve gone for some ice cream.”

Ronan dropped Adam’s measured gaze, understanding the parts Adam had left out. Blue and Gansey were distracting Matthew from the scene that had just unfurled outside. Ashley had probably just gone with them to escape the awkwardness.

“Matthew’s upset,” Ronan said. It wasn’t a question, because he’d heard his little brother’s tone when he’d stood in between his siblings.

“Yeah. And so’s Declan, and so’s your mom. And so are _you_ for that matter. So all in all not a good day for the Lynch family.”

Ronan gritted his teeth because staying angry was easier than the alternative, but the action made his bruise throb and he ended up wincing instead. “Fuck,” he said emphatically. “Everything’s _fucked.”_

Adam didn’t say anything for a moment, and he didn’t make eye contact with Ronan. Giving him space without giving him space, as it were. “Matthew will be okay,” he said eventually, because this they could be certain of. Matthew was quick to bounce back, quick to forgive, even if the people he was forgiving didn’t necessarily deserve it.

Ronan wondered if the rest of them would be okay, or if they were destined to tear themselves and each other apart with grief and anger over and over again.

“Where’s my mom?”

“She’s talking to Declan in his room.”

“And you, Parrish? Why are you still here?”

Adam shrugged. “I was finishing the washing up. And then your mom asked me to bring you this,” he said, nodding his head towards the bag of frozen peas. “But I better go now. This seems like a family thing.”

Ronan nodded mutely, then slowly lifted his hand to hold the bag in place. Once he had it, Adam let go, but he didn’t immediately move to stand up.

In a very small voice, Ronan said, “Declan’s never going to tell me anything now.”

Adam stared at the floor like he was thinking very hard, then he lifted his head and looked at Ronan. He said nothing, because he didn’t have an answer to that; only Declan did.

Adam stood up. “I’m heading out, then. Thank your mom for me? I don’t wanna interrupt her right now.”

“Okay.”

Adam put his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “See you at school tomorrow?” he asked, sounding uncertain.

Fucking school. Ronan nodded wearily. “Sure, Parrish. See you at school.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan sat alone for another ten minutes before he got annoyed enough to go and face his punishment head-on rather than wait for it to come to him. He tossed the now dripping bag of frozen peas onto the coffee table and got to his feet.

Once he was out in the hallway, he followed it down towards Declan’s room. The door was open a crack and Ronan could just about hear the voices of his mother and brother drifting through.

He’d obviously already missed much of the conversation, and what they seemed to be talking about now was. . . well, _him._

“He shouldn’t be living there,” Declan said bitterly. “He should be here.”

“But he doesn’t want to _be_ here,” Aurora replied patiently.

“He doesn’t know _what_ he wants. He’s not eighteen yet, Mom, you could make him leave Monmouth. He’d have to come here.”

“Declan...I can’t make him do anything.”

“I don’t get it! I don’t get why you’re just letting him do whatever the fuck he wants!” Declan snapped. There was a brittle silence, and then he sighed. “I’m sorry.” The Lynch brothers, as a general (albeit often broken) rule, tried _not_ to curse in front of their mother.

When Aurora spoke again, it sounded like she was choosing her words very carefully. “I think that if I demand he comes back to live with us now, when he’s so dead set against it, that it’ll just make him close himself off. We might lose him forever.”

“We’re losing him _now,”_ Declan insisted.

“What are you talking about, he’s here, isn’t he? He still spends time with us.”

 _“I’m_ losing him then,” Declan said. “Fuck, I’ve already _lost_ him, haven’t I?”

“Oh, you haven’t, my little love,” Aurora said, and he must have looked as sorry for himself as he sounded considering she didn’t pull him up for swearing. “He’s just angry and he knows you can take it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I know it’s not. I’m going to talk to him. But you don’t always help, you know. You’re both as bad as each other.”

“Oh, _what?_ That is just—” Declan spluttered.

Ronan shut his eyes so tightly that it made his head hurt and filled his ears with white noise instead of the conversation he’d been eavesdropping on. He felt like all that was inside him was the worst emotions; all the rage, guilt, grief, bitterness and frustration, swirling together into a black hole that sucked in and destroyed anything good.

It was work to remind himself that he didn’t _always_ feel this way.

It didn’t feel good, to hear Declan talk like this. It hadn’t felt good to hear what he’d said outside, either, although there had been _something;_ some small relief in finally getting Declan to snap and prove that he felt anything at all about the death of their father. But hot on the tails of that relief was shame that Declan had felt like he had to hold it together for the rest of them.

For Ronan.

He took a deep breath, refusing to feel bad about how he had handled Niall’s death. How he was _still_ handling it. He’d never asked Declan to look after him.

Ronan had heard enough. He pushed the door open roughly and Declan and Aurora both looked up in surprise from where they were sitting together on the edge of the bed.

Declan’s nose had stopped bleeding but he had a bruise blossoming high on his left cheek. His eyes were red, but he narrowed them at Ronan’s unwelcome entrance.

“If you’re going to talk about me, shouldn’t I at least get to be in the room?” Ronan asked sarcastically.

Aurora’s gaze hardened. “Ronan Niall Lynch, I told you to wait for me in the living room.”

“I’ve _been_ waiting—”

“Ronan,” Aurora interrupted. _“Go._ I’ll be there in a minute.”

Ronan glared at the wall for a few seconds, and then stomped off. He didn’t sit back down in the living room and instead went and stood in front of the window, staring out while he chewed on his leather bands.

True to her word, Aurora found him no more than a minute later. She sat down on the sofa and beckoned him over. When he didn’t immediately move, she gently said, “Please, Ronan. Let me take a look at your face.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Ronan said with a put upon sigh, but he grudgingly did as she asked and sat on the floor in front of her. He let her tilt up his chin to get a good look.

“It’s still a bit swollen. Did Adam bring you the frozen peas?” she asked.

“He did,” Ronan said. “They started to melt. They’re over there.” He gestured vaguely behind him and Aurora looked over.

She raised an eyebrow. “So instead of putting them back in the freezer, you left them on the solid oak coffee table so all the water could soak into the wood?”

Ronan opened his mouth on a response, but found he didn’t have one, and so he shut it again.

“Hm,” Aurora said. She lifted her gaze. “Declan.”

At his brother’s name, Ronan whirled around to see Declan standing in the doorway, arms crossed and leaning against the doorframe.

“Can you take these peas back to the freezer for me and make up an ice pack for Ronan?”

“No,” Declan said petulantly. Ronan sneered at him.

_“Declan.”_

He rolled his eyes and came in to snatch the peas off the table, then he took them back to the kitchen. He could be heard making a right racket as he made up an ice pack for Ronan, his annoyance evident in the slam of the freezer door.

Aurora met Ronan’s eyes carefully. “He’s not very happy with you.”

“Yeah, well, he never is. And also, likewise.”

Aurora sighed. “Has Adam gone?”

Ronan nodded. “He said to say thank you for your hospitality. He would’ve told you himself, but...”

“But you and Declan decided to ruin everyone’s lovely day by using each other as punching-bags,” Aurora finished helpfully.

Ronan dropped his head. “I didn’t mean to ruin the day.”

Approaching footsteps warned Ronan of Declan’s return but he didn’t look up.

“Here. His majesty’s ice-pack,” Declan said derisively.

Ronan bristled but didn’t rise to the bait. He heard his mother’s curt, “Thank you,” and felt the cold as his latest ice-pack was pressed to his face. He didn’t look up again until the footsteps had retreated and he heard the sound of the living room door closing.

Ronan and his mother were now alone, and he steeled himself for whatever she might say. He grabbed hold of the ice-pack and sat beside her on the sofa, staring straight ahead so he didn’t have to see the disappointment in her eyes.

“This...whatever this is that’s got you and Declan riled up to the point that you’re fighting in front of your friends. It’s got to stop,” she said, more tired than angry.

“What did Declan tell you?” Ronan ventured carefully.

“He told me that you’re a little pissant who can’t stop running your mouth.”

Hearing Aurora repeat words that Ronan could so clearly picture Declan saying startled a laugh out of him.

“This isn’t funny.”

“You said ‘pissant’,” Ronan said, a grin still pulling at his mouth. “It’s a _little_ funny.” He glanced at Aurora out of the corner of his eye and didn’t miss the glimmer of a smile before she schooled her expression.

“Look, since apparently neither of you are going to fill me in on the details that led to you talking with your fists, I’m having to piece together what I _do_ know. And what I know is that I walked outside just in time to hear you accuse Declan of acting like your dad didn’t even matter anymore.” Ronan didn’t have to turn his head to know he was being pinned with a furious stare, despite the calm steadiness to his mother’s voice. “I hope you realise how astronomically unfair and cruel of you that was to say.”

Ronan hunched his shoulders, shrinking in on himself. “I was angry.”

“We’re all angry. That’s not an excuse.”

“Oh, like he never said any shit to me? I was out there arguing with myself?” Ronan said indignantly.

“Watch your language. And I’m fully aware Declan isn’t innocent in this and I’ve already spoken to him. Which you _know_ because you stood in the corridor and listened despite the fact I told you to wait _here.”_

“I—” Ronan started before faltering, chastened. “I didn’t hear all of it. I was only out there for like, thirty seconds before I came in.”

“Well, at least you’re an honest eavesdropper.” Aurora sighed. “You wanna know what I think?”

Ronan shrugged; he knew she was going to tell him anyway.

“I think that you and Declan always expect the _worst_ from each other, so every time you interact these days, that’s exactly what you _give._ Does that make sense?”

It made more sense than Ronan was willing to admit to, so he shrugged again.

“Ronan. Look at me.” He did; her eyes were tired and sad in a way that that got to him far more than if she had shouted at him. “I know that you and Declan don’t like each other very much right now, but I need you to remember that you love each other.”

“Mom. . .” Ronan dragged his eyes away.

“He’s your brother, sweetheart. You’ve always looked out for each other. I’d hate to see that change. You need each _other,_ and I need both of _you.”_

Ronan couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to just aimlessly promise his mom that he and Declan would be able to make up and everything could go back to how it was before. Too much had changed. Declan had started drifting further away even _before_ Niall had died, and the distance now seemed near-insurmountable. He wanted to reassure Aurora that everything would be fine, but what if that turned out to be a lie? Ronan couldn’t risk it.

He stared at the wall instead.

When Aurora next spoke, she seemed to be more talking to herself than to Ronan. “‘I wasn’t supposed to be doing this on my own.”

Ronan started at the bitterness in her tone. “Mom?”

Her hands were shaking. “I don’t have all the answers, Ronan. I don’t know if I’m doing this right. And maybe _Declan’s_ right, maybe I shouldn’t have let you live at Monmouth.”

“Mom, no—”

“I’m as lost as you are, sweetheart, is my point. I don’t know if the decisions I’m making now are the right ones, because I wasn’t supposed to ever have to do this alone.” She squeezed her hands into fists, and very, very quietly said, “Some days I have to remind myself that the amount I miss him outweighs how goddamn furious I am.”

Ronan’s eyes started to sting. He was _not_ going to cry. He reached for Aurora’s hand and she took it, squeezing gratefully. She shot Ronan a sad smile.

“Look at the mess he’s left us with,” she said wryly.

It struck Ronan now, sitting in the living room of the rented apartment they shouldn’t have to live in, that this was probably the most honest Aurora had been with him since the funeral.

“He didn’t mean to die.” Always so quick to defend his father, even now, even knowing there was so much he’d been kept in the dark about.

“I know he didn’t.” Aurora sniffed. Two tears dripped down her face in quick succession. “He thought he was going to live forever.”

Ronan didn’t realise any of his own tears had fallen until Aurora wiped one off his cheek. They sat there in silence for a couple of minutes, offering each other whatever quiet comfort they could, not that there was much to be found.

Ronan was exhausted; drained by the roller coaster of a day he’d had. Too many mood swings to keep track of.

“It was nice of your friends to come today,” Aurora said at last, providing a much needed subject change. “I hope they’ll come again.”

“’Course they will. If I invite them, anyway.”

“You should. I like having people in the house,” she said. “Blue’s a lovely girl. She and Gansey...are they together?”

Ronan smirked. “It’s a work in progress.”

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as Aurora decided that Ronan had spent enough time with the ice-pack on his face, he left. Matthew wasn’t back yet, and Ronan didn’t think he could take the extra guilt he’d be hit with if he had to see the look on his little brother’s face.

He hadn’t quite made it to the end of the street when someone called his name.

Ronan closed his eyes for strength before turning around. “What do you want, Declan?”

“Alright, stand down, I’m not here for a fight.” Declan peered up the street past Ronan, but there was no one around. He stepped closer and then cut another look to the side. If he was trying to be subtle, it wasn’t working.

Ronan was losing his patience. “Spit it out, I want to go.”

Declan looked like he was going to snap something, but he stopped himself at the last second and took a breath. He seemed profoundly uncomfortable. “The thing is, Ronan, once you _know,_ you can never _unknow_ it. You can never go back to your blissful ignorance where Dad’s still the fucking hero I know you still see him as. To be honest, I don’t know if you can handle that.”

Ronan glared. “Let me worry about what I can handle, you patronising dick. I want to know, okay? Everything you know, I want to know, too.”

Declan crossed his arms. “Okay then, fuck it. I’ll tell you. Just—” He looked around again, his posture anxious. “Just not here, okay? Not now.”

 _“Where,_ then?” Ronan snapped. _“When?”_ He just wanted it to be over now. He felt like he’d even be okay with finding out his father had been running a secret mafia empire or something at this point, just so long as he finally knew the truth.

“Tomorrow,” Declan said. “Hitch a ride to school with Gansey, then I’ll pick you up after. We’ll go to Nino’s and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Fucking— _Nino’s?”_

“It’s a public place, it’s crowded, and it wouldn’t look suspicious for us to go there. Got it?” Declan glared but didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll meet you at Aglionby tomorrow afternoon.” He turned around and walked briskly back to the apartment, his hands in his pockets.

Ronan watched him until he disappeared inside, then continued to walk back to Monmouth.

He took his time because he had a lot to think about. He felt like he should feel more victorious somehow; he was finally, _finally_ going to find out what the fuck was going on, but instead he only felt more anxious about the whole thing. Plus a lot could happen between now and the following afternoon. What if Declan changed his mind?

Ronan couldn’t think about that eventuality. It wouldn’t happen. This time tomorrow, Ronan would have his answers.

But before _that,_ he had a whole day of school to suffer through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is lyrics from clocks by coldplay :)


	10. The truth is rarely pure and never simple

There was something about being hungover that made Ronan uncomfortably aware of his own heartbeat. It was louder, somehow. He could really _feel_ it, pulsing beneath his skin, pounding out of his chest.

He was alive, and awake, and on his way to school. And also his face hurt, thank you very much, Declan. The one glance Ronan had spared for the mirror that morning told him that he looked like hell. Well, good. He _felt_ like hell.

He hadn’t meant to drink so much when he’d arrived back at Monmouth the day before, but in the wake of the confrontation with Declan and the conversation with his mother, not to mention the anticipation of knowing he was finally to get his answers, Ronan had needed something to take the edge off.

Admittedly, he’d gotten a little carried away. The prospect of having to go to school hadn’t helped; he had just wanted to forget and not think for a little while.

In the passenger seat of the Pig, Ronan sat with the window rolled down and his eyes closed. Gansey had been radiating disapproval ever since he’d woken Ronan up and seen the state he was in, but he was remaining remarkably tight-lipped about the whole thing. He’d probably seen this coming.

“We’re here,” Gansey said, and Ronan opened his eyes to peer blearily out of the window. Everything seemed grey.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Declan was picking him up after school, Ronan really thought he might have blown off the whole day, the terms of him living at Monmouth be damned.

Gansey pulled into Aglionby and Ronan automatically did a scan of the parking lot. They were on the late-ish side thanks to Ronan’s ‘delicate’ state slowing them up, and then the Pig’s standard unreliable nature, so there weren’t many spaces left. Ronan spotted Adam’s shitbox tucked away in the very back of the parking lot. He was willing to bet that Adam had been one of the first here.

Gansey turned the engine off and looked to Ronan. “Ready?”

“No,” Ronan replied, but he opened the door and hoisted himself out of the car anyway.

As soon as he got to his feet, his stomach churned with the sudden change of movement, and he groaned. He braced his hands on the roof of the Camaro and said, “Fuck.”

Wordlessly, Gansey came to his side and pulled a bottle of water out of his bag, holding it out in offering. Ronan accepted it and drank a little. He paused, trying to decide if it was helping or hindering, then he drank a little more.

Gansey shifted his weight, his posture uncomfortable. “Listen, Ronan, I don’t want to overstep, but—”

“Then don’t,” Ronan interrupted, sounding harsher than he meant to. He straightened up and waved the bottle at Gansey. “Thanks for this. C’mon, we’re almost late.”

“I didn’t realise you cared so much about being late,” Gansey said, sounding annoyed but falling into step beside Ronan anyway as they headed towards the entrance.

Ronan didn’t care, but he was too tired and felt too shitty to be belligerent right now. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Gansey snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ronan didn’t share first period with Gansey, but he _did_ share it with Adam.

Small mercies. It was small mercies that got Ronan through the school days.

Ronan was late enough to class that he was the last student to arrive, but he had at least beaten the teacher there. Adam was sitting by a window, but closer to the front than he had done the previous school year. Ronan’s initial confusion for this change was quickly replaced with a flash of white-hot anger when he realised that Adam was moving closer because he could no longer hear as well from the back.

He tensed involuntarily, the action making his already sore head throb painfully. Ronan forced himself to relax, then made his way over.

Tad Carruthers was sitting at the desk next to Adam’s, chatting animatedly and apparently completely oblivious to the almost pained expression on Adam’s face as he listened in polite, strained silence. His eyes flickered to Ronan as he approached, and this, Tad seemed to notice. He looked to the side, eyes widening slightly when he spotted Ronan.

“Jesus, Lynch,” he said. “What happened to your face?”

“You should see the other guy,” Adam said dryly, and Ronan let a slow smile curve his face.

“You’re in my seat,” he said to Tad.

“Oh,” Tad said, glancing between Adam and Ronan. “I thought…you usually sit in the back. I was going to sit here. By Parrish.”

The thing about being an asshole was not caring that you looked like an asshole. “No, I don’t think so,” Ronan said, shaking his head.

Tad again looked to Adam, who merely shrugged in a way that was probably meant to appear apologetic. He gloomily picked up his bag and shuffled off to find another seat.

Ronan slumped into the chair and immediately pillowed his arms on the desk and rested his head on top, facing Adam.

“So mean, Lynch,” Adam said, but he was smiling.

“He’ll get over it. What did he want, anyway?”

“Nothing, I don’t think? It was hard to pinpoint what he was talking about.” Adam hesitated. “He, uh, mentioned something about how blue my eyes were.”

Ronan’s head snapped up. _“What?”_ He laughed sharply. “Wait, wait, _what?”_

Adam pointedly did not look at Ronan. “I think he might have been flirting with me.”

“Yeah, no shit, Parrish. _Please_ tell me he used a pick-up line on you.” He put a hand on his chest and mimicked Tad’s voice: “ ‘Oh, Parrish, no wonder the sky is grey today, all the blue is in your eyes!’ ”

 _“No,_ of course he didn’t—” Adam cut himself off then looked at Ronan quizzically. “Is that even a real pick-up line?”

“I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before,” Ronan said with a shrug.

Adam smirked. “Oh yeah? Has Tad been hitting on you, too?”

“He wouldn’t _dare.”_

“Probably not,” Adam acquiesced. Then he said, with wry amusement, “He summered in the Hamptons, you know.”

“Oh _really?_ Tell me _everything,”_ Ronan said sarcastically.

Adam snorted, but before he could say anything else, the teacher walked in and called for silence. Ronan sighed and put his head back on the table.

It was those brief moments with Adam, some reprieve of the monotony of school, that kept Ronan from completely losing his mind all day.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time school let out, Ronan’s head felt considerably clearer, and cafeteria food—whilst nothing particularly special—had at least been enough to settle his stomach. It meant that by the time he met up with Declan in the parking lot, it was impossible to tell he’d been hungover at all.

Ronan hadn’t told Gansey about his after school plans, so when Gansey spotted Declan’s Volvo and realised that Ronan was heading towards it quite willingly, he did an almost comical double-take.

“What’s happening? Did you know he was coming here? Do I need to intervene?”

“Calm down, Dick, I’m just heading out with Declan for a bit. No need to be alarmed.”

“The bruises on both your faces would suggest otherwise,” Gansey said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t realise I had to run my plans by you,” Ronan said, exasperated, although he could understand Gansey’s concern given the circumstances. He met Adam’s eyes on Gansey’s other side, expecting Adam to put two and two together and understand that Declan was going to give Ronan the truth he so desperately wanted. Adam raised his eyebrows in a silent question and Ronan gave the tiniest nod of his head.

Adam put his hand on Gansey’s shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “I’m not working tonight, do you want to come to mine and we can do the History homework together?”

Ronan had kept on walking but heard Gansey’s agreement, and when Gansey called, “See you later, Ronan!” he lifted his hand in a backwards wave without turning around.

He slid into the passenger seat of the Volvo and Declan immediately started backing out of the space.

Declan was wearing sunglasses even though it wasn’t sunny, but Ronan could still see the bruise high on his brother’s cheekbone. The sunglasses, if anything, drew attention to it.

“You look like a douchebag,” Ronan felt the need to point out.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Declan replied curtly. Ronan rolled his eyes but did as he was asked.

They drove in silence for five minutes, until Declan finally asked, “How was school?”

“Really? You really wanna do the small-talk thing?”

“Fucking— _God._ Okay, Ronan. I was only asking,” Declan said, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel.

Ronan sighed expansively. “It was school, Dec, it was the same as it always is. A waste of fucking time.”

Declan frowned in what Ronan was choosing to interpret as disapproval. He didn’t want a lecture. “It’s just another year,” was all Declan said, however.

“That’s what Gansey says,” Ronan muttered, then turned his head to the side to stare out the window, effectively bringing an end to the conversation. It was in silence that they finished the drive to Nino’s.

Ronan _knew_ he only had a year of school left, but at the same time, it was also a _whole_ year. He didn’t want to do it anymore. Explaining that to Declan, or Gansey, or even his mom, wouldn’t do any good at the moment, so Ronan preferred not to talk about it at all.

When they finally arrived at Nino’s, it was packed with a mixture of young families and the elderly, with a smattering of boys Ronan recognised from Aglionby that must have come straight from school like he and Declan had.

The waitress who met them at the hostess stand was Blue, who arched an eyebrow sky-high when she spotted the two of them together.

“Are you here for the early-bird special?” she asked dubiously.

“’Course we are, Sargent. We love a bargain,” Ronan said.

Declan scanned the restaurant and pointed at a booth in the back corner. “We’ll sit over there, if that’s alright,” he said, then started walking anyway.

Blue watched for a second, then picked up two menus as she and Ronan followed a few paces behind.

“What is this, a reconciliation dinner?” she asked under her breath.

“Something like that,” Ronan said.

“Is this wise? You’re both sporting bruises that you gave each other. _Yesterday._ Maybe you should wait for the dust to settle.”

“It’s settled. It’s—whatever, it’s fine. We fight all the time.”

Blue still looked unsure, but she shrugged and said, “Let me know if you want me to spit in his iced-tea.”

Despite the tension, Ronan managed a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

They reached the booth and Ronan sat down opposite Declan, who was already seated and was typing out a message on his phone. He put it in his pocket when Blue told them the specials and took their drinks order.

She left them alone with their menus pretty swiftly. Ronan didn’t even look at his, but Declan did, although his eyes barely seemed to focus on any of the words and Ronan waved a hand in front of his face. “It’s fucking pizza. Just pick one and talk to me. It’s why we’re here.”

Declan looked up at Ronan and then his eyes darted around the restaurant. “Yeah, just—just hang on a minute,” he said.

Ronan groaned and crossed his arms, knocking his head back against the padding of the booth seating. A couple of seconds later, he realised why Declan was delaying the inevitable, as Blue reappeared to give them their iced-tea. She took their food order, collected their menus, and then left again, although not without shooting Ronan an incredibly curious look. Luckily, Nino’s was busy enough that she wouldn’t have time to let her nosiness get the better of her.

“You’re really dragging this out, you know,” Ronan remarked. He’d never seen Declan look so nervous, so unsure. So _anxious._ “Just get it over with, man. Rip the bandaid off.”

Declan glared, and leaned forward, his forearms on the table. He linked his fingers together and sighed shakily. “You make it sound easy, Ronan, but it’s not. I _promised._ Dad made me promise not to tell anyone, and I haven’t, and now I’m breaking that promise.”

As eager as he was for Declan to just get on with it, Ronan managed to hold his tongue and give his brother a minute, because he understood the gravity of what he was being told now. Niall had told Declan not to tell, and promises were taken seriously in the Lynch household. The only one who ever seemed to break them was Niall himself.

“Okay,” Declan said at last. “God, I don’t know where to start.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, how much do you know about what Dad did for a living?”

“He was a glorified traveling salesman. He bought expensive antiques and shit, and he auctioned it off to the highest bidder.”

“Right. And where do you think he got the money to buy the things he was selling in the first place?”

Ronan started chewing on his leather bands, and he answered around them. “Investments. Inheritance money. Savings.”

Declan sighed. “No. His own inheritance money went towards the farm, the money he made from his investments is what funds _our_ inheritance.” He stared at Ronan like he was missing something obvious. “Ronan, who do you think killed Dad? What do you think happened?”

“You’re going to tell me the truth, anyway. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“It does. I know you’ve got a theory, and I want to know what it is.”

To answer the question, Ronan couldn’t look his brother in the eye. He didn’t want to watch Declan’s expression. He didn’t know if he wanted to find out if he was right or if he was wrong. He didn’t know which outcome was worse.

“I think...that maybe Dad got into some money trouble. He made a deal with someone—or some people—that he shouldn’t have.” Ronan shrugged. “My guess is that something went wrong and Dad got the blame, and they killed him for it. That’s…that’s what I think.” Only now did he look back at Declan. “I’m still struggling to figure out where _you_ come into it all though.”

Declan took a long sip of his iced-tea. “I’m just the unlucky asshole who overheard a phone-call I shouldn’t have when I was sixteen, and Dad decided that if I was old enough to eavesdrop, then I was old enough to quietly help him with minor aspects of his dodgy dealings. With a side-helping of secrecy thrown in for good measure,” he said bitterly. “But back to your theory. You’re partly right. He definitely made a deal that he shouldn’t have. But it wasn’t a one off, and it wasn’t because he was in money trouble. It was just because that’s what Dad’s real business _was.”_

Ronan didn’t understand. “What, his real business was bad deals? What the fuck does that even mean, Declan?”

“It means he was a fucking criminal, Ronan,” Declan hissed, leaning forward and lowering his voice, even though there was no way they would be overheard, not with all the background noise. “Everything he sold was _stolen.”_

“...He stole it?”

 _“All_ of it. None of it’s legit, Ronan. Everyone he sold to…it was all black market, underground bullshit. It’s all illegal.”

Ronan shook his head firmly. His jaw was very set. “That can’t be true.”

“Why can’t it?” Declan said, clearly aggravated. “Think about it, Ronan. Think about how often he was gone, how little he talked about work. You _know_ it makes sense.”

It _did_ make sense, except that Ronan didn’t _want_ it to, and so it was making his head spin. Niall Lynch was a lot of things, but black market seller of stolen goods was a tough pill to swallow. “How did he not get caught?”

“Because he was _good_ at it. He had a secret account that all the dodgy shit was funnelled through. He always dealt with the same circle of buyers so if one of them went down, they could drag the rest down with them. Makes people less likely to turn on each other. Makes them cover their tracks better. It was foolproof.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Ronan cut in sharply, “because Dad got beaten to death in the driveway. So who did it, what happened?”

“What happened is Dad got too fucking big for his boots, didn’t he?” Declan said bitterly. “Thought he was untouchable, thought he could play all these buyers off against each other. There was this item, this box. A puzzle box, one of a kind, a fucking ancient thing with like, mythological roots or something, I don’t fucking know. Point is, everyone wanted it, and Dad promised it to all these buyers individually. His plan was to hold it hostage basically, get the most money possible for it, play all the buyers off each other somehow, I dunno. Word got out of the circle, though, that Dad had the box, which automatically put a target on his back, and made _other_ people want to come looking for it. People who didn’t necessarily want to _pay._ You remember how Dad had been back home for a couple of weeks before he died?”

Ronan nodded silently.

“He was preparing to leave again, but for a _long_ time. He knew that he’d fucked up and brought shit down on himself and was going to fly off and disappear for a while, until the heat died down. His hope was that if he wasn’t at home, no one would come sniffing around the Barns. What would be the point if he wasn’t there? _He_ was the one with the puzzle box, after all, and that was what they wanted.”

A waitress—not Blue this time—arrived with their food. She seemed to sense the tension as she awkwardly put their food down, and Declan handled the entire interaction; Ronan could barely speak. He looked down at his pizza but had lost all of his appetite.

Declan picked up his own pizza and took a bite, but it looked like it took considerable effort. Ronan had to assume he was just doing it for appearances sake. He looked utterly wrung out.

He cleared his throat and continued: “Obviously, someone got to him before he could leave.”

Ronan’s eyes started to sting, and he purposefully did not blink. “Who did it?” he asked hoarsely.

Declan shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck off. Tell me.”

“I really don’t know, Ronan. It could have been someone who was looking for the puzzle-box and killed Dad because he wouldn’t hand it over, or it could have been one of the buyers he promised it to, finding out they’d been screwed over, and getting their revenge. I just don’t know, it’s not like whoever it was left a fucking note.”

Ronan loosed a ragged breath. “I thought you knew who killed him.”

“I can only guess. Whoever did it covered their tracks. A professional job, probably, I don’t know. All I _do_ know is that it was definitely to do with that fucking puzzle box.” Declan shook his head angrily, his eyes pinned on the parking lot outside. “I _told_ him not to mess with those buyers, but he thought…fuck knows what he thought.”

“Who does Mr Gray work for then. One of the buyers?”

Declan nodded. “Greenmantle. Super rich bastard into super weird obscure shit, he bought from Dad a lot. He was one of the ones who Dad promised the puzzle box to.”

“Who are the other buyers?”

“Dad didn’t share all of that with me, I only know the name of one other. Seondeok—who’s the mother of one of your classmates, by the way.”

“What? Who?”

“Henry Cheng. He was put in Aglionby specifically so that Seondeok could come and do business with Dad. Also, now that Dad’s gone, it’s possible she’s got Cheng spying on you to see if you know anything.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Ronan didn’t talk to Henry Cheng. They weren’t friends. But now that Ronan was thinking about it… “He’s pretty friendly with Gansey.”

Declan cocked an eyebrow in interest. “Really?”

“I mean, they’re not _friends_ exactly, just…friendly. They get on well. Do you think that’s on purpose?”

Declan shrugged. “I don’t know the kid that well. But Gansey’s your best friend, and you’re not exactly easy to get to know. Makes sense that Cheng would go down the Gansey route.”

Ronan shoved his plate out the way and put his head in his hands. _“Fuck._ So you’re telling me that fucking _Henry Cheng_ knew more about Dad’s ‘job’ than I did? And that Gansey’s been dragged into all of it without even knowing, just because he’s my friend? _Jesus,_ Declan. Jesus.” A horrifying thought crossed Ronan’s mind, and he dragged his hands away from his face. “Does Mom know?”

Declan’s eyes were hollow, but he shook his head. “No,” he said, barely a whisper. “You can’t tell her, Ronan. Or Matthew. They’ve got no idea.”

“How does she not know? How did Dad keep it from her?”

Declan smiled, but it was a sad, horrible thing, no joy in it. Just bitterness and disappointment. “Because she loved him, and love is blind. Because he was a liar, Ronan.”

It stung. It still stung to hear it out loud, to have it confirmed so bluntly. “So are you,” Ronan said. It was a cheap shot and he knew it.

“Yes,” Declan said, defeated. “Yes, I am. And I learned from the very, _very_ best.”

“So what does Mom thinks going on with you, then? Because she’s definitely noticed you being... _off.”_

“She thinks that I’m grieving and stressed, only she’s attributing the stress to my internship and to the strain with you, when actually that’s only a fraction of it. She keeps telling me that I can drop the internship if I want, that they’ll understand given the circumstances but I just...I _can’t._ It’s not like the internship is that hard anyway and it’s only 2 days a week, plus it’s easier to be in D.C. if I’m running Dad’s business on the side.”

Ronan blinked, dumbly. “You’re doing fucking _what?”_

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Ronan, I feel bad enough. I’m just trying to sell off other stuff Dad had accumulated but not sold yet to try and appease the buyers he pissed off and…reclaim some honour, I guess you could say. A show a good faith to get them off our backs.”

“So it’s all still illegal, then. You’ve taken his place.”

“I haven’t stolen anything,” Declan snapped. “I’m just doing the best I can in the shitty situation we’ve been left with. Tell me, what the fuck would _you_ have done?”

There was no answer that Ronan could possibly give, because Declan was right; he had no idea. He hadn’t been the one left in Declan’s position, with an impossible decision to make, and the weight of their father’s secrecy on his shoulders. But Ronan was also full of rage, so he sat there and stewed in furious silence.

Everything had been a lie. Ronan had thought he was ready to hear his father’s dirty little secrets, and now he had them, and he couldn’t tell if he was better off or not.

An illegal business. A thief, and a liar. Killed by his own arrogance. Leaving his oldest son to clean up his mess. This was Niall Lynch’s legacy.

Ronan felt sick.

His attention was briefly pulled away from his own misery when somebody slid into the booth beside him. He turned and stiffened immediately.

“Mr Gray,” Declan said calmly. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

“You didn’t,” the Gray man said, helping himself to a slice of Ronan’s forgotten pizza. “But I was in the area, and I’m hungry.” He took a bite, chewed, and frowned. “Oh, that’s awful.”

“What do you want?” Declan asked.

“I wanted, Mr Lynch, to know what you two are talking about. This all seems very cosy, and last thing I knew, you were barely even speaking to each other. The fact that you’re both sporting matching bruises suggests you haven’t been getting on very well at all. I want to know what brought about the change of heart.”

“I don’t need your permission to talk to my brother,” Declan said. “Speaking of, get away from him.”

The Gray man smiled. “I’m not going to hurt him. Although your protective streak is a little late; Ronan and I have already met.”

“I’m aware,” Declan said through gritted teeth.

Ronan was yet to say anything. The Gray man’s unexpected arrival at their table had given him a thought he couldn’t shake. He shifted as far from the Gray man as he could get and turned in his seat, putting his back to the wall so that he could see the Gray man straight-on.

He cut across whatever Declan had been saying and addressed the Gray man directly, his voice quiet but rough and full of intention. “Are you the one who murdered my father?”

Declan fell silent immediately, his expression going slack as though the prospect had never occurred to him. And maybe it hadn’t; Ronan could worry about that later. For now, his attention was on one man only.

The Gray man slowly turned so that he was facing Ronan, picked up a napkin, and wiped off his hands. His features gave absolutely nothing away, and Ronan’s heart was beating far too fast.

“No, Ronan,” the Gray man said at last. “I didn’t kill Niall Lynch.”

Across the table, Declan let out a breath, and Ronan might have done the same, if it weren’t for the next chilling words out of the Gray man’s mouth.

“Somebody else beat me to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from the importance of being earnest by oscar wilde
> 
> i'm iffy on this chapter. it was always going to be a difficult one because i knew there was no way around having to write huge clunky chunks of dialogue and i'm not a good enough writer to make that sort of...flow better, i guess? i dunno. i hope it's not a let down :/ 
> 
> ALSO i feel like it's a potentially controversial decision to have it turn out that mr gray isn't actually the one who killed niall? it wasn't always going to be this way, i changed my mind. there is a method to my madness although we'll see how well this goes further down the line ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (oh, and i totally googled pick-up lines involving eyes for that thing ronan says to adam lollll.)


	11. O, what a tangled web we weave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would say that this chapter technically works as a part 2 of the last chapter (i'm sorry it took 2 weeks! but my new rule is to take no longer than 2 weeks to update--i can stick to it i swear!)

It took upwards of ten seconds for the full implications of the Gray man’s statement to fully sink in.

No, he hadn’t killed Niall. Someone else had beaten him to it. He was _supposed_ to have killed Niall Lynch, and the only reason he _hadn’t_ was because he was too late.

Ronan was sitting next to his father’s would be murderer.

He hadn’t moved yet, or he didn’t think he had, but he was suddenly aware that Declan had slid across his side of the booth to get opposite Ronan, his hands enclosing Ronan’s wrist, rooting him to the spot.

Ronan’s ears were ringing as everything else went out of focus, but somehow his brother’s words still managed to cut through and reach him. “Ronan, don’t do anything. _Please.”_

“He—he would’ve—” Ronan started hoarsely, but couldn’t finish. By the time his vision returned to normal, the Gray man had wisely moved around to the other side of the table next to Declan, who had still not let go of Ronan’s arm.

Ronan knew that fighting the Gray man would only end badly for him, but the temptation was there all the same.

“I understand that you’re upset, but it wouldn’t have been personal, even if I _had_ got to him first.”

Ronan was too angry to respond, but without taking his eyes off Ronan, Declan replied, “It’s personal to us, Mr Gray. That was our dad. You didn’t kill him, but you would’ve. It’s very personal to us.”

Maybe it was because it was _Declan_ saying this that helped Ronan calm down even if it was just a little bit, and he nodded slowly at his brother, who withdrew his grip from Ronan’s arm.

Ronan locked eyes with the Gray man, and the Gray man stared right back, utterly impassive. He was clearly waiting Ronan out.

Ronan hurriedly worked through his thoughts, trying to sort out the most important ones. It was a difficult task given the onslaught of information he’d received from Declan as well as this latest revelation. Did it matter that the Gray man wasn’t responsible for Niall’s murder given that he’d admitted it was on his to-do list?

That, Ronan decided, depended on how useful he could be.

“Who beat you to it, then? I’m guessing you _know,”_ he said, surprised by how calm his voice now sounded. Declan, too, looked vaguely surprised by Ronan’s sudden change in demeanor.

“I have a theory,” the Gray man said measuredly.

“Care to enlighten us?” Declan asked, and his professional voice was back now as well. It was all business.

“It’s unconfirmed. And honestly, you two are best staying out of it.”

“We can’t,” Ronan said bluntly. “We’re _in_ it now. Both of us. If it wasn’t you and your Greenmantle boss—” The Gray man’s eyes darted to Declan at the mention of Greenmantle’s name, obviously not expecting him to have told Ronan, “—then it’s one of these other fucking buyers, so I don’t see what you have to lose by not telling us.”

 _“Everyone_ has something to lose,” the Gray man said dangerously, then immediately seemed to regret it. He shook his head, and his sudden dark expression returned to its usual neutrality. “Besides, I’m not going to give you a name without being one hundred percent sure it’s the right one.”

Declan raised an eyebrow. “And Greenmantle would be alright with you sharing that information with us, would he?”

“I wouldn’t exactly tell him,” the Gray man said delicately. He looked across the restaurant and something seemed to catch his eye. “Things have become…complicated for me, in Henrietta.”

Ronan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

As if on cue, Blue Sargent showed up at their table, and to Ronan’s intense surprise she looked to the Gray man in recognition. “Hey, Mr Gray. I didn’t see you come in. And I didn’t know you knew the Lynches.”

It took everything in Ronan not to react as the Gray man replied, “I’m an old family friend.”

“Huh,” Blue said, and smiled. “Small world.”

“How do you two know each other?” Ronan asked, and he sounded strained, he knew he did. Blue picked up on it, too, he could see it in her face as she frowned at him in vague confusion.

She didn’t ask. Instead, she shrugged and exchanged a glance with the Gray man. “Mr Gray is, uh, sort of dating my mom? Or something?”

“Or something,” the Gray man confirmed, and he smiled gently at Blue, an expression that seemed so at odds with everything Ronan knew about him. He immediately felt the urge to step in between them, or to call Blue’s mother and tell her the man she’d allowed into her life was a hitman/hired thug/whatever the fuck the Gray man’s official job-title was.

Blue’s gaze caught on Ronan and Declan’s plates of pizza, still largely untouched. “Something wrong?” she asked. “Not hungry?”

“Eyes too big for their stomachs,” the Gray man said smoothly.

“I’ll box them up for you,” Blue said, picking up the plates. “Waste not.”

“Thanks,” Declan said. “Could you bring us the check please, Blue?”

“Sure.”

Once Blue was out of earshot, the Gray man clasped his hands together on the table. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave,” he said mildly.

Ronan breathed in slowly, and then out again. “Are you expecting me to believe that it’s just a fucking coincidence that you’ve started dating the mother of one of my friends?”

“I’ve been seeing her since before your friend Mr Gansey got chummy with Blue and brought her into your little circle. So yes, I’m expecting you to believe it’s a coincidence.” He phrased it so plainly, so matter-of-fact, that Ronan couldn’t help but believe him. The Gray man sighed. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“How the fuck did it, then?” Declan said, incredulous. “I mean, fucking hell, Mr Gray, I thought you were a professional.”

“And I thought _you_ were smart enough not to tell Ronan everything, but here we are.”

A long buried protectiveness rose up in Ronan, and he leapt to Declan’s defense. “Hey,” he said sharply. “I backed him into a corner. You don’t get to comment on _our_ family shit.”

The Gray man sighed again. “Except it’s not _just_ your family shit, is it? Like I said, tangled web.” He seemed to mull something over, then unclasped his hands and leaned forward. “For the record, I tried to convince Greenmantle from the get-go that watching your family wasn’t the right route to travel and that instead we should be trying to find wherever your father stashed the puzzle-box. I never believed any of you had it.” He arched an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

Ronan shook his head and Declan sighed. “No. I’ve already _told_ you this. He didn’t give it to me. He never even _showed_ it to me. And he definitely never gave it to any of the others.”

“Are you sure?” The Gray man turned to Ronan now, and Ronan again vehemently shook his head.

“No, he never gave me anything like that. He wouldn’t have given it to Mom, she’d have asked too many questions about where it was from. And no way would he give it to Matthew.”

The Gray man nodded, satisfied. “Good. That’s good. Only trouble is, we don’t know where it is, and Greenmantle’s going to keep looking until he finds it, and he’s not the only one.”

“Right, but if you’re here as Greenmantle’s eyes and ears, can’t you just…tell him it’s not here?” Ronan said with a shrug. It sounded simple enough to him.

“I can and I have. He doesn’t believe me. He is somehow under the impression that I’ve already found it, or that I at least know where it is, and that I want it for myself. He thinks I’m trying to throw him off its scent.”

They were interrupted again as Blue returned with the check. She placed it in front of Declan without a word but shot a shrewd look at Ronan as she left again and headed off to the kitchen. She very, very clearly knew something was up.

The Gray man leaned across Declan and pulled the check towards him. “My treat,” he said.

“Oh, _thanks,”_ Ronan said sarcastically. “You were this close to killing our dad but we’re even now because you’re buying us some fucking pizza. No worries, Mr Gray, all is forgiven!”

“Ronan, keep your voice down,” Declan hissed, but he was glaring at the Gray man, too. “He’s right, by the way. You don’t get to buy our trust with _pizza._ We fucking _have_ money. You don’t get to buy our trust at _all.”_

Declan’s shoulders were lined with tension, his brow furrowed as he directed all of his ire in the Gray man’s direction. It made Ronan feel a little better about the whole situation, actually.

The Gray man remained unruffled. “I wouldn’t dream of implying that your trust, or your forgiveness, are things that can be bought. I don’t particularly expect either,” he said plainly. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and took out a couple of bills and placed them with the check. “However, the fact remains that I could be a very useful ally to you, and you’d be foolish not to take advantage of that.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be in touch.”

Ronan watched him leave, as he gave Blue a little wave on his way out the door.

Declan looked utterly shell-shocked. “I did not see that coming,” he said.

“No shit. What does this mean for us?”

“I don’t know, Ronan.”

Ronan grunted in frustration. “Don’t fucking know much, do you?”

Declan smiled but it was self-deprecating, without humour. “Now you know how _I_ feel.”

Blue started making her way back over, a box in her hands that presumably contained their leftovers. “I’ll meet you at your car, Declan,” Ronan said. “I wanna talk to Blue for a sec.”

Declan blanched. “Are you gonna tell her about Mr Gray? Because if there’s even a chance he’s now on our side, you fucking up his relationship is a good way to ruin that and we _really_ don’t need anymore enemies.”

“I know that, look, fuck off, I’ll be out in a minute.” Ronan shooed his brother away just as Blue reached their table. Declan shot Ronan a meaningful look, but he did at least leave, taking the boxes from Blue and thanking her brusquely.

Blue slid into the booth opposite Ronan and picked up the cash on the table. “Nice tip,” she said.

“You can thank Mr Gray for that.”

“I’ll be sure to do that.”

Ronan figured they may as well not beat about the bush. “Gansey said that your mother was a psychic.”

Blue nodded. “She is.”

“Is she the real thing? Is she _good?”_

Blue smiled wryly. “Mom always says that most of being a good psychic is just being a good guesser.”

“Then what has she guessed about Mr Gray?”

The smile dropped from Blue’s face. “Enough. Enough to not ask for any specifics, enough to know he’s not dangerous to me or her or anyone else at our house. Enough to make me incredibly curious as to _your_ connection to him.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Old family friend? _Really?”_

“Not a friend, but he…knew my dad. Sort of. And now—I don’t know, he might be able to help us now. Maybe. I don’t understand it all yet. Don’t say anything to Gansey, I haven’t told him anything yet.”

“Ronan, that doesn’t make a lot of sense,” Blue said, exasperated.

“Yeah, welcome to the fucking club.” Ronan rubbed at his eyes; he was tired again, already. He shook his head slowly, processing what she’d said about her mother’s relationship with Mr Gray. “You’re weird, Sargent. Your mom is weird.” He picked at his leather bands. “This whole thing is fucking insane.”

He got to his feet. He needed to leave; he needed to be alone to think. He needed Adam, probably, to _help_ him think. But Gansey would probably still be with Adam, and Ronan wasn’t ready for that conversation yet.

“See you, Sargent,” Ronan said, and started walking away.

Blue caught his wrist as he passed her, and he stopped. “When you tell Gansey, I want to be there.”

Ronan frowned. “Why?”

“It sort of feels like I’m involved now, doesn’t it? I think I’ve got a right to know.”

“Alright, Jesus, fine, whatever. Come to Monmouth tomorrow afternoon and I’ll tell you and Gansey everything I know, happy?”

“Yes,” Blue said, her jaw very set and determined.

“But don’t say anything to Gansey before then.”

“Do I look like an idiot?” Blue said with a scowl.

“You look like a cactus,” Ronan said, pulling free of her grip.

“What do you mean by _that?”_

Ronan grinned. “Prickly and unapproachable,” he said, and enjoyed the sound of her semi-offended squawk as he headed off towards the exit.

 

* * *

 

 

Declan dropped Ronan off at Monmouth. The Pig wasn’t there, which meant that Ronan had been right in thinking Gansey was still at Adam’s.

Neither Ronan nor Declan had spoken on the brief drive from Nino’s to Monmouth, and Declan kept the engine running when he parked the Volvo. Ronan unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t get out.

“We’ll figure this out,” Declan said at last. “Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Like _what?”_ Ronan snapped.

“Fuck, I dunno, I don’t want to give you ideas, I just—I know how you get, that’s all. Just keep in mind we’re in a potentially dangerous situation here, yeah?”

“Don’t fucking patronise me, I know.” Ronan got out of the car with his box of leftovers, slammed the door and started stomping off. Declan drove alongside him and wound the window down.

“Also, no racing, okay? I don’t want you hanging around with Kavinsky. You know he’s a cokehead, right?”

Ronan scowled; _everyone_ knew K was a cokehead. “You’re not in charge of what I do.”

“Maybe not,” Declan said, “but I could always tell Mom.”

“You fucking _tattletale,_ what are you, five?” Ronan said, but Declan was already winding the window back up. He drove away. “Fucking asshole,” Ronan muttered as he climbed the stairs. Not even Matthew pulled the _I’ll tell Mom_ card anymore.

Once inside the apartment, Ronan showered and changed, feeling slightly better out of his Aglionby uniform. He fed Chainsaw and let her totter around for a while—she’d be flying soon—and then he packed a little rucksack with his uniform, a pair of sweats, and his toothbrush. He didn’t want to stay here tonight. He didn’t want to have to field Gansey’s questions about his excursion with Declan after school.

Ronan grabbed his car keys, his rucksack, and his Nino’s leftovers, and headed out. The sun was setting as Ronan got into the BMW and screeched out of Monmouth at breakneck speed.

He headed away from Henrietta, until he reached long stretches of otherwise deserted road and could put his foot down.

He drove until it was fully dark, and then he drove some more. The clock on his dash read 20:33 when he finally turned around to make his way back to town.

The thing was, Ronan didn’t know what he was supposed to think, or how he was supposed to _feel_ about all of this. He’d spent so long feeling guilty over the fact that he hadn’t been able to save Niall, thinking if only he’d heard something, or if he’d woken up earlier, he could’ve got there in time to make a difference. It had consumed him, the idea that somehow, he could have done something that would mean his father was still alive.

And that was still the case, sort of. Except that now Ronan knew that there was more than one person who had wanted Niall dead, and so perhaps even if Ronan had saved him _then,_ he would have been caught out another time, in another place. Maybe it was inevitable. All because Niall Lynch had thought he was untouchable.

“Icarus,” Ronan said bitterly into the night.

Declan was an idiot not to have told anyone, but Ronan found that he couldn’t blame his brother for this one. Like he’d said, Niall had made him promise, and Ronan knew without a shadow of a doubt that had _he_ been the one Niall had sworn to secrecy, he absolutely would have obeyed.

Lynches didn’t break promises.

By the time Ronan arrived at St Agnes, Gansey was no longer there; the shitbox was the only car in the parking lot. Ronan parked beside it and gathered up his stuff.

The steps up to Adam’s dingy little apartment were worn and familiar, even in the dark, and when Ronan knocked sharply on the door, Adam didn’t look even remotely surprised to see him.

He took one look at the bag over Ronan’s shoulder and waved him in.

As soon as he had shut the door behind Ronan, Adam said, “You should text Gansey if you’re staying here. He’s worried about you.”

Ronan kicked his shoes off and sat cross-legged on Adam’s mattress. “You two been talking about me?”

Adam sighed. “You came up. I didn’t tell him anything.” He sat next to Ronan and Ronan put his pizza box on Adam’s lap.

“Here.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Adam said carefully.

“So eat _more._ Or put it in your fridge to have tomorrow, I don’t care. I don’t want it.” When Adam still looked like he couldn’t decide to get annoyed or not, Ronan sighed. “Look, I didn’t even pay for it, Parrish, Mr Gray did. I’m not hungry, and _someone_ should eat it. May as well be you.”

“Mr Gray?” Adam asked, summarily distracted. He went and put the pizza box on the counter and then returned to Ronan’s side. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me.”

Ronan let out a long breath and stared up at the ceiling; it was the only way he’d be able to keep his face from crumpling. “It was all a lie, Parrish. Everything. All of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My _dad,_ Adam!” Ronan wrenched himself to his feet and started pacing around the limited space. “He lied about _everything,_ and he dragged Declan into it, and it goes so much deeper than I could ever fucking get my head around, and I don’t know what to fucking do. I don’t know if I’m ever going to get my home back.”

Adam waited until Ronan had paced himself out; until his angry, ragged breathing had slowed down and he had sat back down, his knees pulled close to his chest.

“I think you’d better start from the beginning,” Adam said reasonably.

And so Ronan told him everything.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well?” Ronan said once he had finished and they’d been sitting in silence for a minute.

Adam was doing that thing he did, when he was thinking very hard and his eyes were a little unfocused, but he came back to himself at Ronan’s voice and smiled wryly. “I might have to sit on this one for a couple of days before I have any...concrete thoughts. But yeah, it’s _past_ time that you should have told Gansey anyway, so I guess after tomorrow everyone will be in the know. I mean, except your mom and Matthew—”

“Who I’m pretty fucking keen to keep out of this,” Ronan interjected.

“Yeah, I dunno how long that’s gonna be possible for. A secret this big never stays buried for long.”

Adam knew a thing or two about secrets, and so Ronan believed him, especially because he had already feared that was true. It didn’t mean he wanted to think about that eventuality, though. How on earth they’d explain it all to Aurora, he had no idea. It would kill her.

He was so, so done for the day.

It was late, anyway. He found his sleeping bag that he had brought round the first week Adam had moved in, and unrolled it next to Adam’s mattress. It had a built-in pillow, so Ronan didn’t even need to scrounge one of Adam’s.

It had been a while since he had slept over here. It used to be a couple times a week kind of deal, before Ronan had found Chainsaw and her feeding hours had meant Ronan couldn’t really be away for that long.

Thinking of Chainsaw, Ronan pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed a quick message to Gansey.

**\- stopping at parrish’s. check on chainsaw for me? she’s already eaten don’t let her fool u**

Gansey replied almost immediately.

_\- This is precisely why I didn’t want to have a baby with you_

Ronan took it for the affirmative it was, and smiled despite himself. He showed the messages to Adam, just to hear him laugh. It was a tired, breathy thing, but it was there.

Adam took himself off to the bathroom to change for bed and brush his teeth, and Ronan slipped into his sweatpants in his absence. When the bathroom was free, Ronan went to brush his own teeth, and by the time he was out, Adam was already tucked up in bed.

Ronan turned the overhead light off and then used the light from his phone to guide his way over to his sleeping bag. The only sounds were of Ronan and Adam shifting around to get comfortable, but then they both fell still and silent.

Ronan’s eyes were closed, but he opened them when he heard Adam’s voice. “Did you do your homework?”

His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted so he couldn’t yet see Adam’s expression, although his dry tone was easy enough to read. “Are you being sarcastic, Parrish?”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“You do that.”

Adam sighed. “Starting the year off as you mean to go on?”

Ronan snorted. “Something like that.” He could see Adam now, just about. They were facing each other, and Adam’s hand was near the edge of the mattress. They were close enough that if Ronan reached out, he could touch Adam’s fingertips.

Of course, he wasn’t going to do that.

They lapsed into silence again, and Ronan yawned, the remains of his hangover and the events of the day weighing him down. His eyes closed once more and he felt himself start to drift towards sleep.

“Ronan?” It was a whisper of a thing.

“Mmm?”

“I know it was you. The rent. I figured it out.”

Ronan kept himself still. He did not open his eyes. He did not try and analyse Adam’s tone.

“Go to sleep, Parrish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from a walter scott poem (and obviously it's just like a well known saying lol)
> 
> thanks to those of you who are sticking with me, i'm not that great at plot stuff, i prefer writing in betweeny parts and oneshots are my comfort zone so this is definitely a challenge but i really appreciate the kudos and comments <33


	12. That gun is loaded but it's not in my hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi

In the morning, neither Ronan nor Adam mentioned what Adam had said the night before, although there was a hushed air around them as they got ready for school without making eye contact. They took Ronan’s car to Aglionby, and Adam made a blithe comment about Ronan’s music on the way, and by the time they arrived it felt like they were back on an even keel again.

The knowledge was still there, though. Adam had figured out who was behind the rent, and Ronan hadn’t argued. Why would he? It was the truth. And maybe taken as an incident on its own, Adam wouldn’t read much into it. But partnered with any number of other little gestures Ronan knew he’d been giving away all summer…?

Adam was smart. If he hadn’t figured it out yet, he was _almost_ there.

For today at least, Ronan sat in class and tuned out his teachers as he tried to figure out how the hell he was supposed to tell Gansey, well, _everything,_ later that afternoon. Different schedules meant he didn’t even see Gansey at all until lunchtime, already sat at their usual table with Adam.

“Jane called last night,” Gansey said as soon as Ronan sat down. “She said she’s coming around to Monmouth after school.”

“I know.”

“Yeah, she said she talked to you yesterday. She sounded weird.”

“Did she?”

Gansey frowned. “She did. And you _look_ weird. What’s going on?”

“I—” Ronan broke off with an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t exactly blurt everything out in the school cafeteria, and Gansey would find everything out later anyway. Instead, Ronan avoided the question and diverted his attention elsewhere. “Parrish?”

Adam, whose head was buried in a book for English that Ronan couldn’t even remember being assigned, didn’t look up at his name, but he did tilt his hearing ear towards Ronan in a way that implied he was listening. Just barely.

“You working tonight?”

“Mm,” Adam hummed an affirmative. “Not ‘til eight though.”

“Come to Monmouth after school.”

Adam did look up now, squinting at Ronan in irritation. “I have homework.”

“So?”

“So?” Adam echoed. “Believe it or not, Lynch, some of us actually need to maintain our GPAs.”

“Yeah okay, Einstein, so do your homework at Monmouth.” When Adam looked at Ronan again, Ronan glared in a way he hoped Adam would understand. If he was going to tell Gansey and Blue the whole story then he needed someone else there who knew it too. It had to be Adam.

Adam sighed. “Okay. But we are actually doing our homework, Ronan.”

Ronan grinned, relieved. “Course we are.”

Gansey looked between the pair of them. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

Before Ronan could think of a suitable reply, another voice started calling out for Gansey’s attention with increasing urgency.

“Dick Three!”

“Richard-man!”

“Richard Gansey the third!”

Ronan spun around in his seat just as Henry Cheng reached their table. He’d almost forgotten what Declan had revealed about Henry’s mother, but seeing Henry and his gravity-defying hair standing before him was a sudden and unwelcome reminder. He pinned Henry with his least friendly stare and said, “The king’s a little busy, Cheng.”

Henry glanced in Ronan’s direction and held up a hand. “I wasn’t talking to you, Lynch, I need someone with a soul.” He turned to Gansey with a winning grin. “Now. Ganseyman.”

Gansey smiled back easily. “What can I do for you, Henry?”

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked.” Henry seemed to sense the hostility that Ronan knew he was projecting, and he gestured Gansey over to him. “Come into my office.”

Gansey shrugged but got to his feet and followed as Henry led him over to the table he had been sitting on with the Vancouver crowd. Ronan watched them, and then noticed that Adam was watching too.

“So,” Adam said. “Henry Cheng.”

“What do you think? Is he spying or not?”

“If he’s spying, he’s certainly playing the long game with it. Sure, befriending Gansey _would_ be the smart way to go, but I’m not sure…” Adam watched Henry and Gansey talking for another couple of seconds and then shrugged and looked back to Ronan. “He doesn’t seem to want all that much to do with you.”

“I know, weird, right? I’m a _delight.”_

Ronan had a feeling he was going to be treasuring Adam’s following smirk for a long time. “That’s, uh, probably not the word I’d use to describe you.”

“Oh yeah?” Ronan leaned across the table closer towards Adam and grinned. “What word would _you_ use, Parrish?”

Adam held Ronan’s gaze for just a little too long. “To be honest, I don’t think there’s a word that exists that could do you justice.” He returned his attention to his book, although his eyes weren’t tracking the words; Ronan was watching closely enough to tell.

This was starting to feel dangerously close to flirting. Ronan didn’t want to push his luck.

He tilted back his chair and looked out the window. “I’m sure there’s something in Latin that would fit,” he said, his tone unconcerned.

Adam snorted. “You would know.”

It was true that Ronan was head of the class in Latin. His father — for reasons Ronan didn’t understand — spoke Latin, and so Ronan had always studied it relentlessly, like it could be some kind of extra connection to Niall. Declan had never cared as much, and although Matthew always worked hard at school, he’d never really had a head for languages.

It was the one subject Ronan really _tried_ in, and it showed.

He was no longer entirely sure why he’d bothered. Niall wasn’t here to be proud of him, and even when he _had_ been here, he hadn’t been… _here._

Latin would now become just another lesson for Ronan to sit through to get to the end of the school day.

Gansey returning to the table was a welcome distraction from Ronan’s spiralling thoughts as he chided Ronan for tilting back in his chair.

“Honestly, Ronan, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Ronan rolled his eyes but sat back properly. “What did Cheng want?”

“Oh, he’s trying to get Headmaster Child to sign off on a student government and he thinks if I’m on board it’s more likely to get the go-ahead.”

“He wants you to run it?”

“Henry implied I would be a figurehead whilst he was the brains of the organisation.” Gansey shook his head, smiling. “I said I’d support his plight as long as I didn’t have to do anything, I don’t have the time for student government.”

“You don’t wanna be president?” Adam asked.

“You’ve got the hair for it,” Ronan added.

Gansey reached a hand to his head and ran his fingers through it, as if to try and mess it up.

Adam quirked a smile. “It’s useless, Gansey, you can’t fight those genetics.”

Gansey let out a mournful sigh. “I’m doomed to look like politician forever, aren’t I?”

“Afraid so, Dick.”

* * *

 

Making the decision to tell Gansey the truth had been one thing, but when push came to shove, the reality of actually having to do it was much more difficult than Ronan had anticipated.

Blue had already been waiting for them when they got to Monmouth after school, sitting on the outside steps. They all went up; Gansey played host and got everybody cans of coke from the fridge and passed around some Pringles. Ronan let Chainsaw out of his bedroom so that she could explore, and they all sat on the floor. Adam was a little apart from the rest of them, working through some math problems. The scratching of pencil on paper cut through the air every time the conversation lulled.

Gansey was the only one who seemed to think this was just a regular hang-out, and Ronan let him waffle on about Jack the Ripper theories for almost twenty minutes, before Blue interrupted.

“That’s really interesting, Gansey, but there’s something else more important we need to talk about right now.”

Gansey looked genuinely surprised, as if it was unfathomable to him that anything could possibly be more interesting than the true identity of Jack the Ripper, but he sat up straight. “What’s wrong?”

“Ronan?” Blue’s tone was sharp and she pinned Ronan with that fierce glare of hers. He started chewing on his leather bands and looked at Adam helplessly.

Adam looked back and nodded.

Gansey, who was tracking all these subtle movements and gestures, adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on? Because you’re all being very weird and it feels like you all know something I don’t.”

“It’s just Ronan who knows,” Blue said.

“And Adam,” Ronan said, just to be contrary.

“Come on, Ronan, just tell them,” Adam said, turning back to his math homework.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Ronan said, abruptly exasperated. “Blue’s mom’s boyfriend tried to kill my dad.”

There was about three full seconds of absolute silence before Blue exploded.

_“WHAT?”_

Gansey rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. “You’re going to have to run that one by me again.”

Adam merely sighed. “Of all the ways to phrase it, Lynch.”

Ronan shrugged, unrepentant. Blue gaped at him. “That…that _cannot_ be true.” At Ronan’s silence, she pressed on. “Ronan, you need to elaborate. Mr Gray is dating my _mother.”_

Gansey spluttered out, “How do you even know who Blue’s mother is dating? Mr Gray? Who’s Mr Gray? What’s going on?”

“You haven’t met him yet?” Ronan asked Gansey.

“No! I’ve only been to Blue’s house twice. I don’t know who he is.”

Ronan ran a hand down his face. “Well he knows who _you_ are.”

Gansey pinched his lower lip. His voice was small when he said, “I don’t understand.”

“Ronan,” Adam said, quietly but firmly. “Start at the beginning. Don’t leave anything out. And you two,” he said with a glance at Gansey and Blue, “no questions until he’s finished.”

“But—” Blue started.

“No. It’s hard enough for him to talk about as it is. Just wait.”

Blue’s mouth snapped shut. Ronan looked at Adam gratefully and took a breath, then spilled the whole sordid story.

Gansey and Blue listened with quiet, rapt attention. (Except for when Ronan got to the part about going to the Barns, resulting in Gansey cutting in with a scandalised, “You went to the _Barns?”)_

He had sort of expected a bombardment of questions when he finished, but instead, Blue stood up and went and looked out of the window, arms crossed, her expression distinctly troubled.

Gansey kept opening his mouth and then shutting it again, like he couldn’t decide which question was the most important. “So all those times he was away, your dad was… _stealing?”_

Ronan couldn’t look at him, but he nodded. “And selling. Stealing, or selling stolen shit. Or double-crossing dangerous people and getting himself killed and putting his family in danger.” He could hear the bitterness in his own tone, but hated that there was still an urge to defend his father as well, to make excuses for him where there were no excuses to be made.

It fell silent again, but then in the end all Gansey said was, “I’m sorry, Ronan. That can’t have been easy to find out.”

“That my life is a lie?” Ronan said with a harsh smile. “What’s another tragedy to add to the shit-heap?”

“Your life isn’t a lie, Ronan,” Adam said. _“His_ was.”

“Yeah, well…” Chainsaw pottered over and squawked up at Ronan; she let him stroke her feathers. “It feels like—I don’t know. I feel like I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Gansey said, and he sounded so earnest that Ronan couldn’t help but to look up at him. Gansey still looked perturbed by everything he had heard, and was undoubtedly still processing, and would probably have more questions later, but ultimately? Ronan had absolute faith in Gansey, and if Gansey said they were going to figure it out, then they were going to figure it out. He nodded at his best friend.

Adam started packing his homework back into his bag. “I’ve gotta go, I need to get ready for work.”

Ronan scrambled to his feet. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s fine, I can walk—”

“Parrish. I’ll drive you.” He made for the door without waiting to see if Adam would make another protestation, and he’d already made it halfway to the BMW before Adam caught up.

“What’s the rush, Lynch?”

“Nothing, man, I just want to give them some space for a little bit.” He jerked his head back towards the apartment, indicating Blue and Gansey. Blue had still not said anything, and Ronan wondered if perhaps she’d want to talk to Gansey before she asked Ronan any questions.

An extra few minutes with Adam alone was just a bonus.

“So,” Adam said once they were on the road. “Do you feel any better now that Gansey knows?”

Ronan shrugged. “I guess. I think Blue’s freaked out though.”

“Of course she is, you told her Mr Gray is a would-be murderer and he’s dating her mom. How would _you_ react?”

“Well, my mom was married to an international thief and black market dealer without her knowing, so I’m probably not the best frame of reference.”

“Yeah but your dad didn’t _kill_ anyone.”

“That we know of,” Ronan said, then froze; he didn’t believe that, he didn’t know where that thought had come from. “I take that back,” he said sharply. “I didn’t mean it.”

They were almost at St Agnes by now, and Adam didn’t say anything else as the pulled into the parking lot.

When Ronan stopped the car, Adam unfastened his seatbelt but made no move to get out of the car. He rubbed his thumb over the back of his hand, which looked like it was starting to chap. The nights were starting to turn a little colder, and Adam worked with his hands; it made sense that they’d dry out. Ronan bet it was uncomfortable, maybe even painful.

“Ronan,” Adam started, looking studiously at a spot on the glove compartment, “it’s okay for you to feel…betrayed. By your dad, I mean. Anyone would be.”

The instinct rose up _again,_ to defend his father, especially when he wasn’t here to defend himself, but Ronan swallowed it down, hard. He knew that Adam was right. “I’m so fucking angry, Adam. I’m so fucking tired of nothing making sense, and every time it feels like I’m getting closer to fucking…I dunno, closure, I just end up even further away. It’s like I’m stuck watching some shitty movie with too many twists, when I wanted to watch a romantic comedy.”

Adam quirked an eyebrow and Ronan was instantly mortified. “No, forget that, Parrish, that was a bad analogy.”

“No, no,” Adam said with barely checked laughter. “It was a _great_ analogy.”

“Fuck _you,”_ Ronan said with a scowl, but Adam’s laughter was too good to resist and Ronan broke, laughing along with him. “Asshole.”

When the laughter subsided, Ronan let out a groan. “Being mad at Declan was so much easier.”

“Well, obviously,” Adam said, and then shrugged when Ronan shot him a quizzical look. “Being mad at someone who’s not around to see it is wholly unsatisfying.”

“Too fucking right, Parrish.”

Adam picked his bag up and opened the car door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Ronan deadpanned. Adam smiled and shut the door.

When Ronan got back to Monmouth, Blue seemed to have moved past her initial silent shock, as she rounded on him before he’d even kicked his boots off.

“You. Honest opinion. Can we trust Mr Gray?”

Ronan slumped onto the sofa. “Fuck if I know, Sargent. Maybe?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He shook his head. “Look, I don’t know him very well. All I know is what he’s told me, and considering he’s told me some shit I really don’t fucking like, I’m inclined to believe him. There’s not many people who would admit that they were going to kill your dad, y’know?”

Blue leaned into Gansey’s side, and he put his arm around her.

“Blue,” Ronan said, “you said yesterday that your mom knew enough about Mr Gray to know that he wasn’t a threat to any of you. Which means asking if we can trust him isn’t really the right question. Do you trust _her?”_

Blue frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Then there’s your fucking answer, Sargent.”

She didn’t reply, but then she nodded. She buried her face in Gansey’s shoulder. “This is a really weird situation,” she mumbled.

“Isn’t it just,” Gansey said, rubbing her arm. He met Ronan’s eyes. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I don’t know, man,” Ronan said truthfully. “It’s kind of a hard thing to just drop into casual conversation.”

“True,” Gansey allowed. Then: “You told Adam.”

Ronan picked at a loose thread on the tear in his jeans. “It was tearing me up, I had to tell _someone.”_

“And you chose Adam,” Gansey said. Ronan couldn’t quite pinpoint his tone. He couldn’t tell if Gansey was put out that Ronan had told Adam first (which, come _on,_ jealousy was supposed to be Ronan’s thing), or if Gansey was starting to put together smaller pieces to make the bigger picture.

Ronan was saved from answering by Blue pulling away from Gansey and saying, “Take me home?” Ronan got the distinct impression he was being rescued.

Gansey smiled at her and said, “Sure.”

Blue patted Ronan’s knee before she stood up and said, “We’ll figure this out, Ronan.”

He laughed hollowly. “Will we?”

“Yes,” Gansey said definitively. “We’ll figure out everything we know, we’ll talk to Mr Gray and figure out everything he knows. I’ll even talk to Henry, if you want. Between all of us, we’ll find out who killed your father, we’ll figure out how to convince these buyers you don’t have this…puzzle-box, and we’ll find a way for you to be allowed back home.”

Ronan had almost forgotten how much Gansey enjoyed a mystery. “If you say so, Gansey.”

“I do.”

* * *

 

Over the next couple of days, Ronan had to repeat the story several times as Gansey filled a notebook of a chain of events as they knew it and made notes of a potential game-plan. So they had the theory down, they just hadn’t made any practical progress.

Ronan had given Declan a cursory heads-up that Gansey and Blue were now in the know, and although he’d almost had a bitch-fit about it, when he finished chewing Ronan out for telling he advised against Gansey talking to Henry just yet.

“He might just tell his mother, and I don’t know whether or not she’d be on our side yet. Leave the Henry card for another day.”

It made sense, and so Gansey agreed to keep quiet, although he was insistent that he didn’t think Henry was spying.

“But how do you _know_ that, Gansey?” Adam asked.

“It’s just a feeling,” Gansey said, which wasn’t exactly proof.

By the time Friday rolled around, Ronan had had enough of talking about it. He’d also had enough of school. He had a free period for the last two hours of the day, so he cut out early and went to see his mom.

“It’s only me,” he called out when he opened the door.

Aurora poked her head out of the kitchen. “Ronan? What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Relax, I’m not missing any lessons. Free period.” He conveniently left out the fact that he wasn’t supposed to leave Aglionby grounds during free periods.

Aurora frowned at him, and it was a toss up as to whether or not she’d call him out on it. It really depended on what kind of mood she was in.

“Well, as long as you’re not skipping actual classes. Come here, have a brownie.” She obviously didn’t object to the company.

Ronan sat at the kitchen table and ate two brownies while Aurora peppered him with questions about his first week back at school, which he answered in as few words as possible.

He’d just finished his last mouthful when Aurora said, “Declan told me you two had made up.”

Ronan nearly choked. “Did he now.”

Her face fell. “Is it not true?”

“He took me out for Nino’s on Monday after school and we didn’t get into any major arguments, does that count?”

“It’s a start, sweetheart.” She drained the last of her tea. “Will you be coming on Sunday again? In the name of progress?”

“Ask me again next week,” Ronan said, but Aurora seemed to take that as a positive because she smiled and nodded. “Hey, have you made any more of that cosmetic stuff? Like, the soap and shit?”

“Language. But yes, I have actually. Oh, I made some bath bombs, you wanna see?”

“Fuck yes I wanna see.”

 _“Language,_ Ronan.”

He followed her through to the back room and she showed him all the new bath bombs she’d made. Most of them were the standard round shape, but there were some that were heart shaped, and a couple that vaguely resembled cupcakes.

“The mold didn’t hold that well for those ones, I’ll have to tweak the recipe next time.”

“Mom,” Ronan said, lingering over some black glittery ones, “these are badass.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I think. You could sell these.”

She nodded. “That’s the idea. There’s a craft fair coming up, I was gonna take a few things down and see what happens. You want some freebies?”

He took a couple of the black bath bombs, then after hesitating for a moment, a pastel rainbow one, because it was pretty. He pushed them aside to pick up when he left, then scanned the rest of the room, taking in all of the other things Aurora had been making during the last few months of grief-fueled productivity.

She certainly had a lot to show for it.

Jars and jars of stuff, moisturiser and candles and soap and lip balm, or things he’d never heard of like body butter and lip scrub. His attention caught on the hand cream, though, and his thoughts jumped to Adam’s chapped hands immediately.

“You made the hand cream, too?”

“I sure did.”

“Can you—can you show me how?”

Aurora tilted her head to the side; Ronan had never shown much of an interest in that kind of thing before, so he could understand her confusion. “Of course I can, sweetheart, do you need some?”

“No…no, it’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for?”

Ronan shut his eyes briefly. “Adam,” he said quietly. “He gets—he gets dry hands, and he won’t buy himself any, so I thought…”

“How thoughtful, Ronan. You can just take one of those ones if you want?”

“No,” Ronan said, too quickly. “I want to make it myself.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. He felt like his face was burning.

“Then let’s make some hand cream,” Aurora said, and when he finally looked at her, she was smiling in that soft way of hers, absolutely no judgment on her face, and no expectation. Ronan could tell her whatever he wanted to whenever he wanted to. He nodded.

“Do you have a scent in mind?” Aurora asked.

Ronan shrugged. “Something nature-ish.”

Aurora laughed. “Well, that’s a start. Come on, let’s see what we can come up with.”

Something inside Ronan settled, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe not absolutely everything was complete bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from red hands by walk off the earth


	13. With a little help from my friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter mentions robert parrish, so be aware of that. he's not actually in it, just mentioned.

It was one thing to have actually made the hand cream for Adam.

Giving it to him was another matter entirely.

Currently, it was vacationing in the glove compartment of the BMW. Just until Ronan built up the nerve. One week turned to two, and at the start of the third, Ronan was avoiding looking at his glove compartment at all. He felt like it was mocking him.

After the emotional turmoil of the big reveal to Gansey and Blue about his father’s nefarious business practices and unsolved murder, everything had gone surprisingly quiet on that front. The prospect that the Gray Man could be of some help to them seemed to have gone out of the window, because according to Blue, the Gray Man had left town suddenly, telling Maura he had business to attend to but offering no further information. Even Declan couldn’t get in touch with him.

Ronan and Declan were currently treating each other with perfunctory civility, a development that seemed to have both Matthew and Aurora near ecstatic. Ronan had started regularly attending Aurora’s Sunday lunches, and even just asking Declan to pass the potatoes was apparently enough to earn beams of pride. Ronan would find it annoying, but instead it conjured up lingering guilt. He hadn’t realised just quite how deeply the rift had affected the rest of his family.

So it was baby steps, but it was better than nothing.

After the most recent of the Lynch family Sunday lunches, Ronan had volunteered himself and Declan for washing up duty while Matthew and Aurora watched TV in the living room.

He shut the kitchen door and turned the radio up so they wouldn’t be overheard, and then rounded on Declan.

“Any news? Any news at all?”

“I already told you, I can’t get in touch with Mr Gray. Blue told you he was out of town, so I guess he’s out of town.”

Ronan sighed in frustration. “He told us that he could help and then he just goes to the wind? What the fuck, Dec.”

“Maybe he’s trying to help. Maybe he’s on the run. Maybe he’ll be back, or maybe we’ll never see him again, I don’t know. The point is, Ronan, that he knows how to get in touch if he has something to share. Besides, if you believe that he’s serious about Blue’s mother, then I’m sure he _will_ be back at some point.”

Ronan put down the dinner plate he had just dried with rather more force than necessary. “This is — it finally felt like we were getting somewhere, and now it’s all fucking _nothing_ again. We still don’t know who killed Dad, we still don’t even know where this fucking puzzle-box is—”

“I’m working on that. I’ve been looking.”

“And?”

“And nothing, yet. Dad didn’t exactly give me a lot — or _anything_ — to go on. I’ve been talking to Seondeok, to see if she knows anything.”

Ronan looked up sharply. “Henry Cheng’s mother?”

Declan nodded. “That’s the one.”

“I still can’t figure out if Cheng has an angle or not. Gansey’s convinced he’s not a spy, and I think he’s got a point. Any contact I’ve ever had through him has always been when Gansey’s been there, too, and whenever he’s managed to get Gansey on his own, he’s never asked anything about me whatsoever. Gansey said he even tried bringing me up once to see what happened, but got nothing.”

“Maybe he just wants to be Gansey’s friend,” Declan said with a hint of a smile.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s all it is. _Everyone_ wants to be Gansey’s friend.”

Declan mulled this over for a few seconds. “Hm. Well, I’d still err on the side of caution. He could be trying to lull you all into a false sense of security.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Not everyone’s as calculating as you.”

A flash of irritation crossed Declans face before he smoothed it out again. “Being calculated has helped me keep us afloat since Dad died.”

“Well,” Ronan said icily, “maybe you should stop trying to run Dad’s fucking illegal business and instead use that calculating head of yours to find a way for us to go _home,_ back to the Barns, and then _I’ll_ keep us afloat by getting the farm going again. Fuck, it’s not like we’re short of cash anyway, Declan.”

“I _know_ that,” Declan snapped, but then Ronan’s words seemed to catch up with him, and he paused, quizzical. “Wait, is that really what you want to do?”

“What, go home? Of course I want to go home, that’s what this is _about.”_

“No, no, not that. The farm. You want to run the farm?”

“I…yeah,” Ronan said, suddenly self-conscious but unwilling to show it. “I was thinkin’ about it.”

“So no college? Really, no college?”

“I never said I would go to college. I already want to leave school.”

“You promised,” Declan said sharply. “No school, no Monmouth.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that, dickhead. I’ve been going.” He was skating a dangerous edge in terms of his grades, and he skipped classes as often as he thought he could get away with it, but he’d still been showing up, and that was the important thing. “But I never made a promise about college. College isn’t on the table. It’s not part of the deal. I’m not fucking going.”

Declan pulled a face, but for once, elected to say nothing. But Ronan highly doubted it would be the last he’d hear of it. No doubt Declan was just saving this battle for another day.

“Hey,” Ronan said. “If Mr Gray was supposed to be in Henrietta to keep an eye on us for Greenmantle, but now he’s gone, does that mean no one’s watching us anymore?”

Declan shrugged. “It means Mr Gray’s not watching us. It doesn’t necessarily mean no one else is.”

Ronan huffed in exasperation. “Well, great. That’s not fucking creepy at all.” He looked at his brother, but Declan’s expression gave nothing away. “How do you do it, man? How do you go about your day knowing all the shit you know.”

When Declan finally answered, it was in the tone of someone wearied by the burden of responsibility.

“I don’t know, Ronan. I try not to think about it.”

* * *

 

Trying not to think about it may have been working for Declan, but it was easier said than done for Ronan.

He threw himself into figuring out what to do about Adam, instead. Well, he already _knew_ his next move; it was to finally give Adam that fucking hand cream. It was just a question of _when._ It had to be soon; the nights were getting colder.

Since placing it in his glove compartment, Ronan had retrieved it just once, to scrawl _manibus_ on the underside. And then he’d put it back again.

It was a weird position to be in. He knew exactly how he felt about Adam, and was eighty-five to ninety percent sure that Adam was aware of those feelings, and so far Adam had done nothing to try and dissuade Ronan from pursuing anything. But nothing between them had been verbalised, and even Ronan’s actions could technically be passed off as friendship, if necessary.

The hand cream, however, seemed to be a pretty overt sign. Homemade, no less. From Ronan to Adam. _Manibus._ For your hands.

On good days, when Adam laughed at his jokes or sat a little closer than necessary or even just said something that proved how well he knew Ronan, it was easier for Ronan to believe that this… _thing_ between them wasn’t entirely one-sided. He didn’t think Adam felt as strongly as Ronan, it didn’t seem possible, but he at least thought _of_ Ronan, and maybe that was enough.

On bad days, of which, unfortunately, there were many, the prospect of Adam feeling anything for Ronan other than mild tolerance seemed utterly ridiculous. There was just no way, and also, there was no _point._ Adam would be leaving in less than a year now, off to college and never to return. He wouldn’t stay for Ronan, and Ronan would never ask him to.

Adam wouldn’t want anything tying him to this place he had wanted to leave for his entire life, even if he _did_ feel something for Ronan. Looked at in those terms, the whole thing seemed like a useless endeavor of Ronan’s time.

But then, Adam would smile, and the sun would come out again, and Ronan would let himself _hope…_

So what if it was a useless endeavor? At the very least, it might lead to a few months of happiness. That was more than some people got in a lifetime, and it _had_ to be worth it. Besides, Ronan wasn’t strong enough to not try. Being so close to Adam with this unspoken thing between them was killing him. He didn’t want to do it anymore.

On Friday morning, the Pig refused to start, so Ronan drove himself and Gansey to Aglionby in the BMW. They were running late, as usual; as soon as Ronan parked, Gansey grabbed his satchel to run off to first period, which he shared with Adam. Ronan was in different classes than both of his best friends until after lunch, so was less inclined to hurry.

He watched Gansey wave over his shoulder as he power-walked towards the entrance, then reached behind the seat where he’d haphazardly tossed his own bag. Ronan got out of the car, and was struck by a sudden epiphany. He could just put the goddamn hand cream in Adam’s car, on the seat. Adam would find it after school, there’d be no question who it was from — Adam would definitely recognise Ronan’s handwriting — and that would be that. He’d either mention it, or he wouldn’t.

Ronan looked across to where Adam usually parked his shitbox, only to find it wasn’t there. Frowning, Ronan scanned the rest of the parking lot to no avail. Adam’s car was definitely missing.

This didn’t necessarily mean that Adam wasn’t here, however. Odds were that much like the Pig, the shitbox had refused to start this morning. Adam had probably had to bike in. Assuaged by the thought, Ronan headed into class; he could always drop Adam home after school then deliver the hand cream then.

Between first and second period, however, Gansey caught up with Ronan in the corridor, looking concerned.

“Have you seen Adam yet this morning?” he asked.

“What? No — wasn’t he in first period with you?”

“No,” Gansey said worriedly. “He should have been.”

Ronan started chewing on his leather bands; it had been a long time since Adam had mysteriously not shown up for school. He was out of his father’s clutches now, he shouldn’t have needed to. “Maybe he’s sick.”

Gansey shot Ronan a look. It would have to take a near death experience to keep Adam from school, even if he showed up ill and then the school nurse sent him home again. He’d at least make the attempt, come hell or high water.

“His car wasn’t in the parking lot this morning,” Ronan said.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I looked. It’s not here.”

“His bike?”

“I didn’t check for it, I just assumed. But I guess not, if he’s not here.”

Gansey bit his lip anxiously. “God, I wish he had a cellphone.”

“Don’t get him one,” Ronan said. “I don’t want to relive that argument.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Gansey said witheringly, but it soon dissolved into worry once more. “Ronan, if — if something happened to Adam’s car and he had to cycle in instead, what if…what if there’s been an accident?”

Everything inside Ronan turned to stone. “We’d know. We’d have heard.”

Gansey was going to bite a hole through his lip if he wasn’t careful. “How? How would they know who to call?”

If Ronan rationalised this logically, he’d know that, even if something _had_ happened, then likely the school would have been called, and presumably, Ronan and Gansey would have been informed as well known friends of Adam’s.

But he _wasn’t_ thinking logically, so instead he ran straight back out to the parking lot, Gansey right behind him.

They retraced the route Adam would have taken to get to school, keeping a close eye out for anything out of place, any sign of an accident, anything at all. But there was nothing, nothing out of the ordinary, and when Ronan finally pulled into the St Agnes parking lot, the goddamn shitbox wasn’t there either.

Gansey ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe we missed him at school?”

“No. We fucking didn’t.” Ronan slammed his way out of the car, ran up the steps to Adam’s apartment, and banged on the door. He waited ten seconds and then knocked again, louder this time.

Something that felt suspiciously like panic started to unfurl inside Ronan. He jogged back down the steps and got back into the car.

“He’s not there?” Gansey asked.

“No,” Ronan said. He smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “Where the fuck _is_ he?”

Gansey had taken his phone out of his pocket and was busy scrolling through his contacts. It seemed a waste of time to Ronan; Adam didn’t have a cellphone, a way to contact him wasn’t going to suddenly appear in Gansey’s phone just because they wanted it badly enough.

“I don’t know who to call,” Gansey admitted. “He wouldn’t miss school to work a shift, would he? Maybe I should call Boyd’s…” He trailed off, thinking. Then he sat up a little straighter. “I’m going to call Noah,” he said definitively.

Gansey found the number for Cabeswater, pressed dial, then turned the phone on speaker so that Ronan could hear.

It took Noah an excruciatingly long time to answer, but eventually he did, with a cheery, “Cabeswater Comics Emporium, Noah speaking, how may I help you?”

“Noah, hi, it’s Gansey, Adam’s friend?”

Noah’s phone voice changed immediately. He sounded anxious. “Hi, Gansey. Is it over already then? That was fast. How did it go?”

Gansey and Ronan exchanged a confused look. “I’m sorry, Noah, I’m not sure what you mean. I’m just calling because Adam didn’t show up for school today and me and Ronan were getting a little worried?”

There was a pause, before Noah let out a long and considerably out of character curse.

“Noah?” Gansey prompted.

“He’s at the courthouse, it’s his court case today, against his father. I was going to close the shop and go with him but he insisted I keep it open because you two were going to be there. I would never have let him go on his own otherwise.”

“The _court case?”_ Gansey said, aghast. “He never even told us about it!”

“If you hurry, you can make it,” Noah said urgently, but Ronan was already starting the engine and driving away, heading towards the courthouse.

“We’ve got it, thanks, Noah,” Gansey said. “I’ll call you afterward and give you an update.”

After he’d hung up, Gansey sat silently for almost a full minute before he clearly couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell us. Doesn’t he trust us?”

“I don’t think it’s that, Gansey,” Ronan said, even as his fingers curled and uncurled with unbridled rage on the steering wheel. Not at Adam, never at Adam. This was all for Robert Parrish.

They finished the short journey in silence, and there, at last, was the shitbox, parked behind the courthouse. Ronan immediately felt better at seeing it, but hated that Adam had felt he had to do this alone.

“What’s the game-plan here, Gansey. Will they even let us in?”

“They will absolutely let us in,” Gansey said, in a voice that Ronan trusted above all others. “You are a direct witness in this case. I can be a character witness for Adam. With any luck, the judge will be Judge Harris, he’ll let us in. I know him.”

This was what Gansey was good at, Ronan reminded himself. He yanked himself out of the car, then knotted his tie properly. He tucked his shirt in.

Gansey smoothed down his hair, but he was otherwise dressed immaculately. He put his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

They didn’t linger at the courthouse after it was over.

Adam got into his car, and Ronan and Gansey got into the BMW, and they followed him back to his apartment.

Gansey was quiet, which was probably a good thing because Ronan was simmering with fury. Robert Parrish had been found guilty, yes, but he was being served with what Ronan felt was an inordinately lenient fine along with probation.

That was it, despite everything Adam had endured at his father’s hands for almost eighteen years.

Adam had seemed relieved that Ronan and Gansey had shown up, although they hadn’t had a chance to talk to him yet, and Ronan wasn’t sure what he would say anyway. The fine almost felt irrelevant somehow; Robert Parrish, who had yelled belligerently over his own son as he explained he could no longer hear out of his left ear, was a free man.

The BMW got caught out at a traffic light, so by the time they arrived at St Agnes, Adam had already arrived and was waiting for them, leaning against his car. Ronan parked, and he and Gansey got out of the car.

Adam looked between then two of them, and then down at the ground. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“There’s no need to apologise,” Gansey said quickly. “I’m just glad we could be there for you. I’m sorry there wasn’t a better outcome.”

Adam shrugged. “He was found guilty. That’s on record now, and it’s good enough for me. I never expected him to go to prison.”

Ronan gritted his teeth; it was _exactly_ what he had expected. Adam noticed the gesture and he gave Ronan a knowing look, then another tiny shrug.

“How did you two find out about it, anyway?”

“We were worried when you didn’t come to school, so we came here but you weren’t home, and then we called Noah. I said I’d call him when it was over, actually — or do you want to?”

Adam shook his head. “Can you do it? Tell him I’ll see him at work tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Gansey said, and stepped away to make the call.

Ronan yanked his tie loose and untucked his shirt. Adam smiled a little and said, “And all's right with the world again.”

Ronan snorted, then leaned against the car next to Adam, arms crossed and staring straight ahead. He sighed. “Look, Parrish, are you okay?”

Adam shrugged again. It was shrug city today. “I think so. It all feels a little surreal, I guess. But I got the outcome I wanted.”

“Can we…do you want us to…ah, fuck. Do you _need_ anything?”

Adam looked at Ronan. “A favour.”

“Anything,” Ronan said, almost surprising himself at how readily he meant it.

“I have the whole day off from Aglionby. It seemed easier than going in and out and potentially fielding questions, or whatever. But if you could take Gansey and go back to school, and get notes for me from this afternoon’s classes, that would be really helpful.”

“Really?” Ronan arched an eyebrow. “School? That’s your favour?”

Adam smiled again; he looked exhausted. “You said anything. Besides, you and Gansey will get in trouble if you don’t go back. And I know your Monmouth arrangement is dependent on you attending school, so this is just as much for your benefit, Lynch.”

“Well, thank you, Parrish, how very noble of you.”

“I try.”

By now, Gansey had finished up with his phonecall and he made his way back over. “We’re going back to school, Gansey. Just you and me.”

Gansey looked to Adam. “Will you be alright on your own?”

Adam nodded. “I’ll be fine. They’re not expecting me back in Aglionby today anyway. Ronan’s gonna take notes for me.”

“Is he now?”

Ronan held up his hands. “I make no promises for how useful said notes will be.”

“Do you want us to come by after school?” Gansey asked.

Adam shook his head. “No point, Gansey, I have a shift at Boyd’s tonight. But I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Gansey beamed. “Definitely.”

With that, Ronan and Gansey got back in the BMW and returned to school. Ronan took meticulous notes in the afternoon classes he should have shared with Adam.

What else could he do?

* * *

 

It was restlessness and lingering anger that had Ronan going out for a long drive that night. He didn’t really have a direction in mind, and he swore loudly when he realised he was halfway back to the Barns.

He turned around; as much as he wanted to go home, he didn’t want to risk running into trouble.

But if driving towards the Barns had been an accident, driving past Boyd’s on his way back to Monmouth was very intentional, especially considering it took him a little out of his way.

He was relieved to see Adam’s car out front, and it was late enough that Adam would likely be the only one there. But Adam had told them he’d see them tomorrow, and Ronan didn’t want to intrude if Adam needed a little space for a while.

But he _did_ still have the hand cream in his glove box, and there was no reason why he couldn’t now carry out his earlier plan of leaving it in Adam’s car.

The shitbox, it turned out, was very easy to break into.

* * *

 

A few hours later, Ronan was lying on his bed in the dark with his headphones playing on full blast when a sliver of light moving across the floor caught his attention. He took his headphones off as the door opened wider and was about to tell Gansey to leave him alone when he realised that it wasn’t Gansey, but Adam, standing in the doorway.

“…Hi,” he said lamely.

“Hey,” Adam replied. “Gansey let me in, but he’s just gone out. I think he’s taking Blue out for a clandestine late night drive.”

Ronan nodded. “They do that.”

For a moment there was nothing but silence, until Adam gestured inside. “Can I—?”

Ronan waved him in, trying to shake the nervous pit that had settled in his stomach. “Mi casa es tu casa.”

Adam stepped inside and shut the door. “Spanish, huh? Quite the linguist, Lynch.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Ronan said as Adam sat down on the edge of his bed.

Adam huffed a tired laugh. “That you are. Breaking and entering being one of the most prevalent.”

That very much seemed to be an acknowledgment of what Ronan had left in Adam’s car earlier on. Ronan swallowed.

But Adam didn’t seem to be mad about it, and he also didn’t seem to have anything else to say on the matter for now. “I’m tired, Ronan,” was all he said.

Ronan was confused. “Do you need a ride home? Did your car break down?” Why was Adam _here?_

“No, I drove here on purpose.” Adam ran a hand down his face and avoided meeting Ronan’s eyes. Quietly enough that Ronan almost missed it, he said, “I didn’t really want to be alone.”

Ronan immediately sat up properly and moved to get out of bed. “That’s cool, Parrish, you can stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not gonna kick you out of your own bed, Ronan,” Adam said in frustration.

“Well I’m not having you sleep on the floor, so…”

“It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the sofa out there.” Adam indicated over his shoulder towards the main living area of Monmouth.

“That sort of defeats the point of you not wanting to be alone, now, doesn’t it,” Ronan said dryly.

“…True.” Adam looked around the room, then at Ronan’s bed, then at Ronan, then down at his hands. “Okay, let’s not be ridiculous about this. There’s enough room for both of us if you’re insisting on being chivalrous.”

Ronan jutted his chin out. “I am.”

Adam smiled, just barely amused. “Well, alright then. Can I borrow something to sleep in?”

Ronan sorted him out with some loose pyjama pants and on old tank top, and then Adam disappeared to use the bathroom. While he was gone, Chainsaw, who was now flying, reappeared at the window. Ronan let her in and was just putting her into her birdcage when Adam returned from the bathroom.

“Do you ever worry she won’t come back?”

“Every night,” Ronan said, but didn’t elaborate, and Adam didn’t ask him to.

Ronan washed his hands and brushed his teeth, and by the time he got back to his room, Adam had already slipped under the covers and was right up against the wall.

Ronan took a breath and got into bed. He lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, but he could feel Adam’s eyes on him.

“What, Parrish?” he whispered.

“Nothing,” Adam whispered back. “Just — just thanks. For today. For letting me stay.”

“Anytime.”

There was a long, long silence. And then: “Do you mean that?”

“You know I do.”

“Yeah,” Adam said wonderingly. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Ronan closed his eyes. “Adam…” he started, but he had no idea how to finish the sentence.

The silence dangled in the air between them, until Ronan eventually fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title is from the beatles song (but i had the joe cocker version in my head when i named the chapter because it's better obviously)


	14. I just want your extra time and your...

In his nightmare, Ronan was drowning.

Like a lot of Ronan’s nightmares, it had started out as a dream. And a _good_ dream; Adam was in it.

They had been outside a forest, and Adam had smiled, then he’d taken Ronan’s hand. They’d walked through the forest, which to Ronan’s eyes seemed equal parts beautiful and frightening and eerily familiar. But of _course_ it was familiar; he’d dreamt of it before.

In the middle of the forest they came to a sudden drop, at the bottom of which was a pool of water of indeterminate depth. Dream-Adam let go of Ronan’s hand and walked the edge, laughing and waving off Ronan’s concern. Ronan could see what was going to happen right before it did, and yet somehow he couldn’t move until it was too late — dream logic, probably — and he watched as Adam lost his footing and fell backwards off the edge, scrambling for purchase he wouldn’t find.

Ronan didn’t have to think; he dove after Adam.

Hitting the water felt like hitting glass, but once he was submerged, Ronan frantically looked around every which way. He couldn’t see Adam anywhere, but then again he couldn’t see _anything;_ his eyes were burning. His _skin_ was burning, and oh, _that_ was why. Not water.

Acid.

Objectively, Ronan knew it was a dream. He knew that Adam — the _real_ Adam — had not fallen into the acid pool, he wasn’t in here drowning, he didn’t need rescuing. And Ronan, too, wasn’t really drowning. His skin wasn’t really on fire. It was a dream. Just a dream.

But it was hard to compartmentalise that part of his brain when Ronan had _seen_ Adam go tumbling off the edge, when he could _feel_ his skin burning in the acid, when he couldn’t breathe or see or reach the surface.

Under the acid-water, Ronan desperately choked out, _“Adam,”_ feeling the acid fill his mouth and blister his throat. He couldn’t breathe, and where was Adam, where was Adam, _where was Adam—_

“Ronan!”

His eyes flew open. There was a hand on his shoulder, and then there wasn’t. Ronan took a breath and tried to acclimate to his surroundings.

“Ronan?”

It was Adam. It was Monmouth. Ronan was safe.

 _Adam_ was safe.

“Fuck,” Ronan said. He blinked a couple of times and then looked to his right to see Adam in his bed, sitting up, sleep-ruffled but clearly concerned. “I’m fine. Just a…just a dream.”

Ronan was accustomed to waking up with Adam there thanks to his many sleepovers at St Agnes, but a sleepover at Monmouth was a rarity, and Adam had _never_ slept in Ronan’s bed before. It was disorienting in a good way, but on top of that Ronan was still reeling from his nightmare.

Chainsaw squawked and provided Ronan with a reason to get out of bed. He got to his feet and let Chainsaw out of her cage, then went to the window and opened it wide. She nicked at Ronan’s ear affectionately but then off she went, flying out into the distance.

She’d be back.

Ronan watched until she’d disappeared, but when he turned back around, Adam still hadn’t moved.

“You, uh, you said my name. In your sleep,” Adam said, something Ronan couldn’t place in his tone.

 _Because_ he couldn’t place it, Ronan immediately got defensive. “Don’t get excited, Parrish,” he scowled. “It wasn’t a good dream.”

Adam’s expression shuttered, utter neutrality replacing…whatever emotion had been there before. “Okay, asshole, I was just making sure you were alright. I thought you might want to talk about it but just forget it, I guess.”

Ronan sighed. “Adam.” He ran a hand over his buzzed hair and looked at the floor. “The bad part wasn’t you, you just happened to be there. It wasn’t…it wasn’t you.”

There was a heavy pause, and then Adam said, “Okay.”

Ronan covered his face in his hands, hiding a bizarre urge to laugh. “It’s too early, Parrish, let’s not…let’s not talk about my bad fucking dreams.”

“You have them a lot then,” Adam said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.” Ronan dragged his hands away from his face.

Adam was still sitting tangled up in Ronan’s duvet, his hair sticking up on one side, and fuck, wearing Ronan’s _clothes._ He’d never looked so attainable. The urge to get closer, to reach out, to touch, was near overwhelming.

Adam looked at his watch. “I don’t have time anyway, I’ve gotta get to work.”

Ronan crossed his arms. “I’ll come with you,” he said. He still didn’t particularly want to let Adam out of his sight in the wake of the court case.

“You wanna hang out at Cabeswater with me while I work a four hour shift?”

Ronan shrugged. “The fuck else have I got to do today?”

Adam smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Homework?”

“Asshole.”

* * *

 

Gansey was still asleep when they left, the earplugs Ronan had got for him when Chainsaw had first moved in doing their trick as Adam and Ronan traipsed through Monmouth.

“Should I leave him a note?” Ronan asked with a smirk.

“I know you’re joking,” Adam said, “but he’d honestly probably appreciate the gesture.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I’ll text him.”

At Cabeswater, Noah barely even acknowledged Ronan at first; all of his attention was immediately on Adam. It made sense seeing as it was the first time Noah was seeing him since the court case.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, and Noah opened his arms for a hug. Adam went, and Ronan stepped away, giving them space, quietly marveling at the easy affection.

They spoke to each other in an undertone for a minute, and then Noah said, “Are you sure you’re okay to be here today? I can manage if you need the day.”

“I’m fine, Noah. Ronan’s here to keep me company.”

“Good. Although, what else is new?” Noah looked over at Ronan and grinned. “I’m not paying _you,_ though.”

“Well in _that_ case,” Ronan said sarcastically; Adam smiled at him.

“Alright,” Noah said. “Adam, there’s a box of new records behind the register that need putting out on the shop-floor when you get a chance. I’ll be in the office on the phone to the insurance company, joy of joys, but shout if you need me. And Ronan…try not to scare away my customers?”

Ronan smiled bitingly. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask.” Noah waved dramatically and then flounced off towards the office.

Adam watched him go and then walked towards the register. “I think I worried him yesterday,” he said almost disbelievingly.

“He cares about you,” Ronan said with a shrug. “It’s not so strange.”

Adam hummed noncommittally and Ronan hated that instinct of Adam’s to doubt genuine care and affection. To doubt that he _deserved_ it.

Ronan was going to change that mindset if it was the last thing he did.

He hopped up onto the counter and took the box of records out of Adam’s hands. He flicked through them, sounding off his opinions as he went: “Shit…shit…shit…shit…”

“Thanks for those concise reviews, Ronan. Give me those,” Adam said, snatching them back. He took them over to the new releases section and started putting them away.

“I was trying to be helpful, Parrish.”

“Uh huh. You just sit up there lookin’ pretty and leave this to me.”

Ronan froze, but if Adam registered what he’d said, he didn’t show it. A slip of the tongue, maybe, while Adam was distracted? Either way, it took Ronan a minute to realise he hadn’t responded.

“What do you wanna do after this anyway?” he asked, because changing the subject was _always_ the right answer.

“After my shift?”

“Yeah.”

Adam rocked back on his heels. “I dunno. What do _you_ wanna do?”

Ronan didn’t care, as long as it involved spending more time with Adam. To kiss Adam, would be nice. To hold his hand. Fuck, just to sit next to him at Nino’s would be fucking grand.

He shrugged. “I’m easy, Parrish.”

* * *

 

Gansey called Ronan near the end of Adam’s shift, and Ronan gave the phone to Adam to deal with and then went back to flipping through comic books.

He wasn’t really paying attention to Adam’s half of the conversation, so looked up questioningly when Adam handed his phone back. “Have we been summoned?”

Adam shook his head. “Gansey’s spending the afternoon at Blue’s, but he asked if we wanted to go to Nino’s later.”

“Nino’s sounds good,” Ronan said easily.

“I…you can call him back if you want to go,” Adam said awkwardly, “but I said I just wanted a quiet one tonight.”

“That’s cool, Parrish, you can do what you want. I’ll drop you home when you finish and leave you to it.”

“I don’t mean alone,” Adam said quickly, glancing off to the side. “I thought…I dunno, you can come and hang out or whatever. We can do homework, there’s loads.”

“You’re really selling this to me, Parrish,” Ronan said with a grin. Homework or not, he was _definitely_ going to go to Adam’s, especially seeing as he had an invitation.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam said. “It’s not like you have any other plans.”

“Hey,” Ronan said with mock hurt. “I could have other plans. I could hang out with people other than you or Gansey, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Like who?”

“Like…Matthew. Or my mom.”

Adam nodded sagely. “You make a good point.”

Ronan left Adam to the last half-hour of his shift and headed back to Monmouth. Chainsaw had returned and was perched on the window frame outside his bedroom. He let her in and she immediately hopped onto the floor and went to investigate the trash can.

Ronan found his rucksack and threw a few things inside. He felt it was safe to assume he’d end up sleeping at Adam’s and so packed his Sunday suit and his sleep clothes and his toothbrush. He tried not to read into the fact that although Adam didn’t want to hang out as a group, he clearly still seemed to want Ronan’s company in particular, even if it _was_ just while he was doing his homework.

Ronan would take it. He’d take anything.

An hour later Adam showed up in his shitty little car to pick Ronan up, and they stopped at the store on the way back to St Agnes. Adam sprang for a frozen pizza so at least they’d have something to eat later.

Back at Adam’s apartment, Adam dutifully did homework while Ronan dutifully refrained, instead playing noisy techno on his phone and seeing what would distract Adam. Surprisingly little did, although Adam was clearly very aware of what Ronan was trying to do. The tiny hint of a smile betrayed him.

Later, they ate pizza, and Adam finally stopped studying for the night, and they talked about anything other than Robert Parrish or Niall Lynch or the future. Ronan filled a page with doodles and then balled it up and threw it at Adam’s head. Adam made microwave popcorn then threw pieces at Ronan to see if he could catch them in his mouth.

It was a fantastically normal Saturday night, all the more so for how markedly less stressed Adam seemed to be compared to the last couple of weeks. Besides, Ronan would take a quiet night in with Adam any time; it was all alarmingly domestic.

When it grew late and they both got noticeably more tired, Ronan went for his sleeping bag but Adam stopped him.

“There’s room on my mattress, Ronan,” Adam said. “Don’t sleep on the floor.”

* * *

 

Ronan woke up on his side, his hands pulled close to his chest. That wasn’t unusual, but Ronan felt different somehow. And then he realised _why;_ Adam’s arm was around him, his hand loosely gripping one of Ronan’s.

Ronan blinked a few times, thinking it was a dream, bound to turn south as soon as his subconscious inevitably turned against him. But as the haziness of sleep slipped away and nothing changed, he understood that he was awake, and that it was real.

He exhaled slowly, trying not to disturb Adam. Unable to help himself, Ronan rubbed his thumb gently across Adam’s wrist. Adam made a little humming noise — of contentment? — and moved almost imperceptibly closer.

Adam was clearly asleep; his breaths were deep and even and warming the back of Ronan’s neck. They had been back-to-back when they’d fallen asleep, so Adam must have moved unconsciously in the night, rolling over and reaching out and finding the only person there. Ronan hadn’t woken up at the time, but now that he _was_ awake, he didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t want to move, even though he knew that he should. The question was how to do it without waking Adam up, without drawing to Adam’s attention that they were, well, _spooning._ Ronan didn’t want Adam to be embarrassed over something that was clearly an accident.

While Ronan was still figuring out what to do, Adam stirred, his arm tightening around Ronan for a second as he woke up, before relaxing again. He nuzzled his face drowsily in the back of Ronan’s neck, then completely froze.

He removed his arm immediately and sat up. “Oh _shit,”_ he murmured. “Ronan, I’m—I’m sorry.”

Ronan didn’t know how to act here. The only thing he could think to do was to play it off all blase. He sat up and gave Adam what he hoped was an unconcerned, vaguely amused look. “Didn’t know you were such a cuddly sleeper, Parrish.”

It was the wrong thing to say, apparently; Adam blushed and looked away. “Yeah, well, me neither. You could’ve just pushed me off.”

Ronan shrugged. “I only just woke up, too, Parrish. I was figuring out how to move without waking you up ‘cause I’m polite like that.”

“Great,” Adam said with a scowl. “Thanks. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for mass, by the way?”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right. I really, really should.” Ronan scrabbled for his little rucksack into which he’d stuffed his Sunday suit the night before. Declan would undoubtedly complain about how wrinkled it was. _“Fuck,_ I’m gonna be late.”

Adam yawned and lay back down, rolling over so his back was now to Ronan. “It’s not like you’ve got far to go.”

It felt like a dismissal, but Ronan didn’t have time to puzzle it out. He ran to Adam’s bathroom to pee and brush his teeth, then pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible.

At the door, he paused and looked over his shoulder. He could hear the parking lot just outside filling up as people made their way inside the church. “I’ll see you later, Parrish?”

But Adam just grunted, and Ronan really had to go.

* * *

 

Ronan barely heard a word all through mass.

All he could think about was Adam and the silent but monumental shift that seemed to have taken place between them. Ronan wasn’t sure how to navigate it; he’d already joked this morning and if he kept it up then he and Adam would probably soon return the the edge they’d been skating for weeks now. Or he could do something else. Make a move. A _real_ move, and risk losing everything.

Ronan didn’t _want_ to lose everything. But the what-ifs were killing him.

“What is _with_ you?” Declan asked as soon as mass let out. “You were a million miles away in there.”

Ronan didn’t answer, instead looking up towards Adam’s apartment. Adam wasn’t working today, and his car was still in the lot, so he clearly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Whatever,” Declan said when it became obvious Ronan wouldn’t respond. He scanned the parking lot. “Hey, where’s the BMW? Did you walk here?”

Ronan shook his head. “I stayed at Parrish’s last night, my car’s still at Monmouth.”

“Oh. Well, come on, I’ll give you a ride back so you can get changed and then come over for lunch.”

“Nah,” Ronan said. “I’m not coming today, something came up.”

Declan narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“Just something. It’s none of your fucking business. Just tell mom I’ll go see her after school tomorrow?”

“Okay, pal, I’ll tell her,” Matthew said, as if sensing that Declan was about to take issue with Ronan’s absence. He pushed lightly at his older brother’s shoulder to get him moving towards the Volvo and after a moment of stubborn resistance, Declan went. Matthew called, “See you later, Ronan!” and then they got into the car.

Ronan watched them drive away, even actually making an effort to wave to Declan as if to reiterate that there was nothing wrong. Or at least, nothing wrong that Declan needed to concern himself with.

Once his brothers had gone, Ronan shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly walked across towards Adam’s apartment. He sat on the steps and leaned his head against the wall, trying to think up a plan of action. He wanted to see Adam, obviously, always, what else was new, but he also wanted to…clear the air. And potentially confess his feelings. All casual.

He felt sick.

He heard the door at the top of the stairs open, and Adam’s surprised little, “Oh.”

Ronan turned around. “Parrish,” he said.

“Hey. I thought—” Adam broke off and then looked away. “It sounded like everyone had gone and you didn’t come back so I thought you’d left, and…”

“And what, Parrish?” Ronan was abruptly and inexplicably annoyed.

Adam could tell; he looked straight back to Ronan and narrowed his eyes. “And I was going to go to Monmouth to see if you’d gone back there.”

“You were gonna come see me.”

Adam shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Adam sighed, exasperated. “I wanted to? Ronan, did I…do something? Are you okay?”

Ronan got to his feet, restless and confused and aimlessly irritated. “Are you busy right now?” Adam shook his head. “Drive me somewhere?”

“Where?”

“I don’t care. Anywhere.”

* * *

 

On second thought, Ronan probably should have got Adam to take him back to Monmouth so he could get the BMW and drive himself. It was much faster and had a much better sound system; the shitbox seemed to be permanently stuck on Oldies FM. It didn’t even have a CD player, for fuck’s sake, just an ancient tape-deck. Ronan needed to make Adam a mix-tape at the earliest opportunity.

Which would be difficult, considering _no one_ had tape players anymore. But Ronan was committed to the cause now; he’d find a way.

He didn’t say a word to Adam, and Adam didn’t say a word to him. Instead Ronan looked out of the window, hunched down in the seat with his arms crossed, trying to unpick his irritation. Trying to figure out _Adam._ He was tired of it.

Every so often he stole glances at Adam out of the corner of his eye. Adam’s elegant hands on the steering wheel looked a little less chapped and painful than they had a couple of days earlier, and Ronan felt a bite of self-satisfaction that Adam had clearly found opportunities when Ronan wasn’t paying attention to use the hand cream. And then he got annoyed again and knocked his temple against the window.

“Alright,” Adam snapped. “What’s the problem?”

Ronan could smell a fight in the air; he didn’t know if the right choice was to avoid it or lean into it. He didn’t know which outcome would be worse, or if both were wrong in different ways. It was too late now. “Pull over, Parrish.”

Adam didn’t need telling twice. The road they were on was deserted anyway, and Adam wrenched the shitbox into the next lay-by they came to. As soon as the car stopped, Ronan slammed his way out of it.

He walked a little way away from the car and soon heard Adam’s own door slam. He felt partly gratified to be followed, but in the wake of that was pure terror, because Ronan could feel the words building, and at the slightest provocation they’d all spill out and Ronan would never be able to take them back again.

“What's wrong then? Are you gonna tell me exactly what happened between this morning and now that’s got you all annoyed, or did you just want a witness to your temper tantrum,” Adam said; Ronan had clearly pissed him off. It made it easier somehow.

He whirled around to face Adam. “What’s _wrong?”_ he said, incredulous. “You _know_ what’s wrong!”

Adam crossed his arms. “I really don’t, Ronan.”

“First of all, you were the one who was pissy this morning, so don’t pin this all on me.”

Adam went a brilliant shade of pink but didn’t back down. “Yeah, because I woke up spooning you and it was embarrassing and you made light of it? But _you’re_ the one who showed up outside my door after mass with an attitude, so it’s at least a _little_ on you. Like, just do me the courtesy of telling me whatever the fuck I did to piss you off.”

Ronan paced in a circle and groaned. “Adam, for _once,_ can we stop pretending that you don’t know how I feel? I _know_ you know. And this — being close to you _knowing_ that you know — it’s the fucking _worst,_ I can’t fucking do it anymore!”

Slowly, the irritation fell from Adam’s face, although his arms stayed crossed in a clearly self-conscious gesture. “Ronan…”

“I’m _sorry,_ Adam, I don’t want shit to be awkward, but I just…I’ve reached my limit of fucking _pretending._ Haven’t you?”

There was an agonisingly long silence, and then Adam quietly said, “I haven’t been pretending.”

_“What?”_

“I said I haven’t been pretending, Ronan, _God,”_ Adam said, utterly exasperated. “Yeah, you’re right, I _know._ But I haven’t been pretending that I don’t! I’ve been fucking flirting with you? In case you hadn’t fucking noticed?”

“I—that’s—I thought you were just— _what?”_ Ronan spluttered. Whatever he’d been expecting Adam to say, that was not it.

Adam took one step closer, but no more. “I don’t know. I thought things were slowly progressing between us and I didn’t want to push anything, but I could _not_ have been making myself anymore obvious, come _on,_ Ronan.”

“Oh, you could’ve made yourself a _lot_ more fucking obvious, Parrish, _I_ was the one who didn’t want to push _you!”_

“You didn’t! I was just…waiting!”

Ronan threw his hands up in the air. “For _what?”_

Adam made a fantastic noise of frustration. “For you to fucking kiss me, Ronan!”

Ronan’s mind was having trouble keeping up, but his mouth was running on instinct. It somehow seemed important to win the argument, even though it was now abundantly clear that the argument was a massive case of crossed signals. Distantly he realised he hadn’t heard Adam drop quite so many f-bombs in such a short stretch of time before. “Well then why the fuck didn’t _you_ kiss _me?”_

Adam rolled his eyes mightily. “Like I said, I didn’t want to push you. I figured you were building yourself up to it.”

Ronan deflated. “I _was.”_ He thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “I really think I was.”

Adam gave an exhaustive smile, but then just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again. He almost looked stricken, and he took another half a step forward. “I want…for fuck’s sake, Ronan, you’re _killing_ me over here.”

It was the desperation in his tone that got Ronan moving in the end.

He stumbled towards Adam, closing the last of the gap. He’d never done this before, he didn’t know what he was doing, but then Adam tilted his face up towards Ronan and it was the easiest thing in the world to just lean in and close his eyes.

Ronan had imagined this. A thousand different ways, he’d imagined this kiss.

It was short and achingly soft, Ronan not wanting to push his luck, but when he pulled back, Adam chased after him with his eyes still closed and they kissed again. And again and again, until they stopped and pressed their foreheads together, and Adam laughed and said, “You’re such an asshole, Ronan, I’ve wanted you to do that for so long.”

Ronan’s heart was racing, but he managed nonchalance when he replied, “A little heads-up next time then, Parrish,” and kissed him again. Because he could. Because Adam _wanted_ him to.

He smiled, and after one last lingering kiss, he pulled away. After a moment of hesitation, he tentatively took Adam’s hand.

They walked back to the car, Adam leaning into Ronan ever so slightly. At the passenger door, Adam pressed Ronan up against the car and kissed him like the two second journey around to the driver’s side was going to be a torturous time apart, and fuck it, it _was._

“Are you telling me that we could have been doing this for fucking weeks now?” Ronan complained, cupping Adam’s cheek with one hand.

“Yep. If you’d built up the nerve.”

“You could’ve kissed me at any time, Parrish, I wouldn’t have complained.”

“Good to know,” Adam murmured with a lazy smile as he kissed Ronan again. “I can make it up for it now.”

“You fuckin’ better,” Ronan grumbled as Adam detached himself to go around and get into the car. Ronan yanked the door open and all but threw himself inside. He had too much energy now; all his movements felt like they were too big.

He felt… _giddy,_ was the only word that came to mind.

Adam got into the car much more measuredly, carefully shutting his door. He turned to Ronan, who was already facing Adam. They both fell quiet, both watching each other, as if waiting for the spell to break, the moment to shatter, the other shoe to drop.

It wasn’t going to break. Ronan wasn’t going to let anything ruin this.

Adam smiled nervously and Ronan reached for his hand over the middle console, tracing his palm and his fingertips.

“So,” Adam said.

Ronan dragged his gaze up to Adam’s face and raised an eyebrow in question.

“What now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know that scene in the oc when the gang are going to tijuana but they have to stay in a motel while the car gets fixed and ryan and marissa sleep on the sofa bed but in the morning ryan has moved over and wrapped his arm around marissa in his sleep and she's awake but like softly smiling and not wanting to move? yeah, ronan's marissa here.
> 
> (chapter title is from kiss by prince)
> 
> also here is an IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT to say that this fic is going on a hiatus until august, because pynch week is next month and i want to try and get a least a couple of the prompts done but i don't want to stretch myself too thin. it'll be easier if i don't stress myself with this fic at the same time.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this chapter and i'll see you in august (kudos and comments will fuel me in my absence) <3


	15. ready or not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i said this fic would return in august and here it is, good for me  
> (thank you for your patience!)

Back at his room in Monmouth, Ronan lay stretched out on his front, his head pillowed in his arms. His shirt had been discarded at some point and Adam sat on the bed beside him, tracing the lines of Ronan’s tattoo with aching gentleness.

Night had fallen and the only light came from the small bedside lamp, the glow of which made Adam look almost ethereal in the otherwise dark room. His expression was serious as he scrutinised every last detail of Ronan’s tattoo. Neither of them had spoken for quite a while. Part of Ronan was afraid he was dreaming, and that any words would shatter the illusion.

Other than Gansey, who had dutifully applied lotion to Ronan’s back while it was healing, no one had seen the tattoo up close for this long before. Ronan hadn’t allowed them to. It was intensely personal, so much so that Ronan didn’t even ever really look at it himself. The only parts he regularly saw were around his neck and shoulders where it hooked over. The full effect he only ever caught glimpses of in the mirror, but he never lingered to look properly. It was enough to know it was there.

This — lying bare in front of Adam, allowing him to look, to _touch_ — was entirely different.

Finally, Adam seemed to have looked his fill. He leaned over to softly kiss Ronan’s shoulder, then lay down beside him. He stared at Ronan and Ronan stared right back, their faces so close that Ronan felt certain he could probably count Adam’s eyelashes should he feel so inclined.

For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how they’d got to this point, but he most definitely wasn’t complaining.

“Did it hurt?” Adam asked, voice hushed as if he, like Ronan, was afraid to disturb the night.

“Did what hurt?”

“The tattoo.”

Ronan snorted. “Yeah, Parrish. It fucking hurt.”

“Was anyone with you when you got it done?”

“Nope. No one even knew I was getting it, remember?” Ronan could certainly remember everyone’s surprise after he’d got it.

There was a long pause. “I would have gone with you. If you’d asked.”

Ronan did know that, just like he knew that Gansey would have accompanied him. There was a reason why Ronan hadn’t asked either of them. “I needed to do it on my own, I think. I wasn’t…I wasn’t in a good place.”

Adam nodded almost imperceptibly. “And now?”

Ronan smiled and kissed Adam quickly. “I’m working on it.”

Adam smiled back. “Me too.” Slowly the smile dropped from his face, sorry resignation replacing it. “It’s late, we have school in the morning, and I haven’t finished my homework. I’ve gotta go.”

He untangled himself from Ronan and got to his feet. Ronan sat up. As much as he’d like Adam to stay, they were now in uncharted territory.

Sleepovers were one thing, but they’d never had them like _this_ before, and Ronan knew it wasn’t the same.

“Parrish,” he started, but then couldn’t decide what he wanted to say. In the end, he didn’t have to say anything. Adam leaned down and kissed him, soft at first, but gradually gaining more urgency until they both pulled back to catch their breath.

Adam smiled sheepishly. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Ronan couldn’t believe he felt excited for a school day.

“Bright and early, Parrish.”

* * *

 

In the morning, Ronan was up well before Gansey. He opened his bedroom door so Chainsaw could potter about, and she made a beeline for Gansey’s miniature Henrietta, parading noisily through its streets like she was Godzilla. It was a good job Gansey still had his earplugs.

Ronan took his time showering and getting dressed, trying to calm the jitters he felt. Everything that had happened with Adam the day before was real, Ronan was sure of that. It was just that today was _another_ day, and they’d spent the night apart. What if Adam had changed his mind?

Ronan had never been so anxious to get to school.

After leaving his bedroom, he detoured to the kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast. There wasn’t much except for cereal, and there was no milk, so Ronan started eating Cheerios straight out of the box. He carried it over to the foot of Gansey’s bed.

“Dick,” he said, to no avail. Gansey was lightly snoring, half his face hidden from where it was pressed into the pillow. Ronan threw a Cheerio at him and it bounced off his cheek, resulting in a disgruntled little noise but little else. _“Dick.”_

Gansey scrunched his face up before slowly opening his eyes. He sat up and squinted at Ronan, then put his glasses on and squinted some more.

“Ronan,” he said. “You’re awake.”

“I am.”

“You’re…you’re dressed.”

“I fucking hope so,” Ronan said, then looked down at himself as if to confirm.

“No,” Gansey said. “What I meant is you’re dressed for _school.”_

“It’s Monday, Gansey. What else would I be dressed for?”

Gansey blinked owlishly. “I don’t know. I normally have to drag you out of bed at the time we should be leaving.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, God, what time is it? Have I overslept? Are we late?”

“Nope, not late, you’re fine. Get up, though, I wanna leave in fifteen minutes.”

“…Okay,” Gansey said, in the tone of someone who was still very much tired and confused. But he didn’t ask anything else and swung his legs over the side of the bed, got up, and tottered off to use the bathroom.

Ronan upended what was left of the Cheerios into his mouth then left the box on Gansey’s bed so he could use it for his model Henrietta. He held his arm out for Chainsaw, and when she’d hopped on, he took her back through to his bedroom and let her outside through his open window.

He brushed his teeth, grabbed his schoolbag without checking he had the right stuff in it, then left Monmouth to wait by the car for Gansey.

He was sitting on the Pig’s bonnet when Gansey finally ventured out.

“Get. Off,” Gansey said, and Ronan grinned and hopped off the car.

Once inside the car, Ronan turned the radio up as loud as it would go as Gansey got them moving. He rapped his knuckles on the window loosely in time with the baseline, a blatantly restless action that Gansey had definitely picked up on if the looks he was shooting Ronan were anything to go by.

It wasn’t like Ronan was unaware he was acting somewhat different to usual, it was just that he hadn’t quite figured out how to rein it in yet. He needed to see Adam, to see how Adam was feeling in the light of a new day.

He didn’t want to take anything for granted.

They were early enough that Gansey didn’t have to struggle to find a space, and he parked the Pig fairly close to the gates. As soon as he pulled the handbrake, Ronan had the passenger door open, hoisting himself out, then reaching back in and grabbing his bag as an afterthought.

“What’s your hurry?” Gansey asked, but Ronan shut the door instead of answering, already looking across to where Adam usually parked.

The shitbox was there, so Adam was here, and Ronan’s heart skipped a beat. He needed to get his shit together. This was Adam. Of _course_ he was here; it was school, and he’d already missed Friday because of the court case.

Had that only been Friday? It felt so long ago already. The weekend had seemed eternal.

Behind Ronan, Gansey slammed his own door and then said, “Oh look, Parrish is coming.”

Ronan span around and followed Gansey’s gaze. Sure enough, Adam was walking towards them from Aglionby’s main entrance. He must have been waiting for them.

Adam’s hands were in his pockets as he approached, and he glanced at Ronan before focusing on Gansey, who already had his fist out for Adam to bump, which he did so as soon as he was close enough.

“Morning,” Adam said. “You guys are early.”

“I know. Ronan was in a rush for reasons he has yet to explain to me,” Gansey said with an amiable smile that he threw Ronan’s way.

Adam now looked at Ronan properly. And he smiled. “Lynch.”

“Parrish.”

Now that he knew what it was like to kiss Adam, Ronan couldn’t remember how he’d acted towards Adam on all the days before.

There were events in a person’s life that forever changed them, whether it be for better or worse. For Ronan, becoming friends with Gansey had been one of them. Finding his father dead in the driveway was one, and being evicted from the Barns another, although the two were irrevocably intertwined.

Kissing Adam Parrish was another one.

There was before kissing Adam and there was after kissing Adam. Ronan was living in the latter now; he could never go back.

Nor would he want to. He stepped around the Pig to draw level with Adam and Gansey and they set off towards the main school building.

Gansey immediately started talking to Adam about an assignment Ronan had no recollection of, but Ronan was barely following the conversation anyway. He was more preoccupied with how his shoulder kept brushing against Adam’s as they walked along.

He wanted to take Adam’s hand, but he wasn’t sure how they were supposed to act around each other in front of other people, including Gansey. They hadn’t exactly spoken about it the night before. He didn’t want to presume anything.

Light pressure against his hand jolted Ronan out of his thoughts, as out of Gansey’s sight, Adam ran his thumb gently across Ronan’s wrist. It was just for a second, there and gone again, but the action was too intimate to be anything other than deliberate.

It settled some of Ronan’s nervous energy. Adam hadn’t forgotten. Adam wasn’t going to pretend nothing happened. He didn’t _want_ to pretend.

They’d talk later; for now, Ronan still had a school day to get through. He and Adam separated from Gansey in the corridor as they had different lessons first period.

In the classroom, Tad had once again sat down next to Adam’s usual spot, ever hopeful. Ronan could relate.

“Move, Tad,” Adam said as he sat down. “You’re in Ronan’s seat.”

Ronan didn’t even try to hide his grin as a blustering Tad got his things and moved away, then sank into the chair. “That was cold, Parrish.”

Adam shrugged, his mouth curving a in a slight smile that betrayed his feigned nonchalance. “He’ll get over it.”

* * *

 

Despite the day being filled with longing looks and blushes and smiles and the occasional brushed fingertips, by the time the final bell went, Ronan had yet to find an opportunity to get Adam alone.

He knew Aglionby wasn’t the ideal place, but still. It was a struggle.

He draped an arm around Adam’s shoulders as they headed out into the parking lot, because he could do that whilst still looking casual; he’d done this a thousand times before. If Adam leaned in a little closer than usual, then the only person who noticed was Ronan and it was fine by him.

Gansey had beaten them outside and was waiting for Ronan by the Camaro, leaning against the driver’s side door. He raised a hand when he saw them, and Adam waved back, but they didn’t go over.

“I’m working tonight,” Adam said.

“What time do you finish?” Ronan asked casually.

“Ten,” Adam replied. Casually.

“I, uh, might have business in the area around that time,” Ronan said with a shrug. “Might stop by.”

Adam snorted. “What business is that?”

 _“You,_ dickhead.” Ronan removed his arm and backed up a couple of steps, shoving his hands into his pockets. “See you later, Parrish.”

“You better,” Adam said, and Ronan had just enough time to glimpse the slight blush on Adam’s cheeks before he swiftly turned around and hurried the rest of his way to the shitbox.

Ronan smirked before leisurely strolling back over to the Pig, Gansey watching him the whole way.

“Is Adam coming over?” he asked when they had both gotten into the car.

“Nah. He’s working tonight.” He picked at a loose thread on his Aglionby sweater. “I’ll probably head over after his shift though.”

“Thought you might,” Gansey said, but he didn’t ask why as he shifted into gear and got them moving. It wasn’t like Ronan going over to Adam’s apartment was unheard of; Gansey had no reason to see it as out of the ordinary. In fact, the only thing that _was_ out of the ordinary was Ronan actually offering up the information that he was going in the first place. Normally he’d just… _go._

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Gansey to know. It was just that he sort of wanted to skip over the part where they actually _told_ him. And also, it really seemed like Adam should be there for that particular conversation.

It wasn’t just Ronan’s secret to share now.

The thought made him smile, and he sank lower in the passenger seat.

“For the record,” Gansey said, glancing briefly at Ronan before refocusing on the road, “I think you’re being really weird.”

“Duly noted.”

* * *

 

Ronan waited until ten-thirty before driving over to St Agnes, not wanting to risk the embarrassment of getting there before Adam was even home from work.

Luckily, Adam’s car was in the lot and Ronan parked right next to it.

In the hours between school ending and now, Ronan had allowed the jitters to set in again. He liked Adam and — marvel of marvels — Adam liked him back, but did that mean he was allowed to kiss Adam as soon as he saw him? Would Adam be expecting that? Was high-school romance always so awkward?

Ronan dropped his head onto his steering wheel and took a deep breath. “Get your shit together, Lynch,” he muttered to himself.

He was still mentally preparing himself when a knock at the window almost made him jump out of his skin, and he looked up to see a vaguely amused Adam peering in at him with a raised eyebrow. Ronan hadn’t even noticed Adam leaving his apartment.

Cursing the day he was born, Ronan wound down the window. “Evening, Parrish.”

Adam bit his lip as if to keep himself from laughing. “Evening. Did you want to come inside, or are you planning on staying out here?”

Ronan smiled sarcastically, wound the window back up then got out of the car.

“How did you even know I was here?”

“I saw you out the window,” Adam said.

“Ohhh,” Ronan said, realisation dawning, and he grinned at Adam. “You were waiting for me.”

Adam shrugged and glanced off to the side shyly, which was as good an answer as a yes. “It’s been a long day,” he finally said when he met Ronan’s eyes once again.

He hesitantly stepped forward into Ronan’s space and leaned up, brushing Ronan’s lips with his own in the lightest of touches as he clutched his hand in Ronan’s t-shirt.

Ronan brought his own hands up to cup either side of Adam’s neck, his thumbs skating Adam’s jawline as he responded in kind. They were gentle kisses but it didn’t make them any less urgent. It felt like the first time Ronan had managed to catch a breath all day, which was ironic really.

When they finally parted, Ronan noticed that Adam’s hair looked slightly damp, obviously not long out of the shower. He took his hand. “C’mon, Parrish. Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“That’s a myth,” Adam said, but allowed himself to be led back up to his apartment. “You can’t catch a cold just from having wet hair.”

“Sure you can. It’s common knowledge.”

“It’s not _knowledge,”_ Adam insisted. “A cold is a virus. Wet hair cannot increase your chances of catching a cold, unless, like, you’re so cold that you get hypothermia, and if you get hypothermia you’ll be more susceptible to infection.”

Ronan was so hopelessly endeared, but he still couldn’t resist the urge to be a shit. “Right. Got it. We don’t want you you catching hypothermia, then.”

“It’s not cold enough for me to—” Adam broke off with a sigh and opened his apartment door, sarcastically conceding with a dry, “You know what, fine. You’re absolutely right.”

Ronan laughed and toed out of his boots, leaving them by the door out of the way.

There was an open textbook and a notepad on Adam’s little makeshift desk, homework obviously started and then abandoned upon Ronan’s arrival. A quick glance told Ronan that it was Latin homework, and as such Ronan had actually already done his. (He had to fill in the Adam-less hours somehow.)

“Need a hand?” he asked.

Adam sat down at the desk and picked his pen back up. “Really, Lynch? You wanna help me with my homework now?”

“Not really,” Ronan admitted. “But it’ll get done faster if I help.”

Adam gave him a long considering look, then shook his head. “I want to do it myself. But can you look it over for me afterwards?”

Ronan flung himself down onto Adam’s mattress with a lofty sigh. “I guess. I’ll just fucking wait here then.”

Adam didn’t look at Ronan as he started writing but his small smile was telling. “You do that.”

What followed was fifteen minutes or so of near silence as Adam did his homework, during which Ronan stretched out on Adam’s mattress and looked through the camera roll on his phone. There was an inordinate amount of pictures of Chainsaw on there, and Ronan would never ever delete a single one.

“You’re being very distracting,” Adam complained, and Ronan looked over to see that Adam was watching him.

“I’m literally just sitting here.”

“I know. But you’re all…” Adam gestured at him vaguely. “Y’know?”

Ronan cocked his head to the side. “Uh. No? You’ll have to explain that one.”

Adam groaned and rubbed a tired hand down his face. He shoved his notebook aside and avoided the question. “Fuck it. I’ll finish this in the morning.” He got up and came over to his mattress and crawled onto the sliver of space Ronan had left. “Move over.”

Ronan graciously did so until his back was up against the wall, and when Adam had finished getting himself comfortable, Ronan cautiously tangled their legs together, perching his hand on Adam’s waist to hold him in place.

For a little while they just looked at each other, and then at the same time they seemed to get embarrassed and looked away again, laughing.

It didn’t take long for the laughter to subside though, and Adam scooted a little closer, and Ronan barely even had to move to slot their lips together.

Kissing Adam was great. Everyone should try it. Except no, scratch that.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Adam asked quietly. “You didn’t bring a bag.”

Ronan smiled wryly. “Left it in the car. Didn’t know what you’d want me to do, Parrish.”

Adam hesitated. “You’ve always stayed…before.”

“It’s not ‘before’ now though. New territory, Parrish. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

“Me neither,” Adam admitted. He kissed the corner of Ronan’s mouth. “I just know that I want to keep doing it.”

Relief rushed through Ronan. Realistically, he now knew without it being said that Adam was just as in this as he was, but hearing it out loud was definitely reassuring.

“Me too.”

“Really?” Adam whispered, and it killed Ronan that he sounded so unsure, even though all of Ronan’s actions had been leading to this for _months_ now. He pulled Adam towards him, wrapping his arms around him.

“Fuck, Adam, you’ve got _no_ idea.” He leaned back and brushed some of the hair out of Adam’s eyes. “So what do you want me to do?”

Adam took a steadying breath. “Stay,” he said. “I want you to stay, if you _want_ to stay. But if you don’t, I won’t be offended—”

“Parrish, stop,” Ronan cut him off with a smile. “It’s cool, I’ll stay. I want to stay.”

“Okay. Good.” Adam buried his face in Ronan’s chest and mumbled, “Are we really bad at this?”

“Who gives a shit?”

“…You make a compelling point.” Adam rolled off the mattress and got to his feet, earning an irritated little ‘harrumph’ from Ronan at the loss of contact. Adam snorted. “I’m only going to brush my teeth, Ronan. I’m tired, it’s time for sleep. And _you_ need to go and grab your bag.”

“So I do,” Ronan said, and got up while he still had the energy to do so.

Ten minutes later, the door was locked, the lights were off, and they were both back in bed, under the covers. Ronan thought about all the times he’d slept here on the floor, so close and yet so far from Adam.

He’d imagined, sure, but he’d never really believed that he’d end up here.

“Hey,” Adam murmured, lifting his head up from where it had been resting on Ronan’s chest. “What do we tell Gansey?”

As much as he didn’t particularly want to talk about Gansey right now, Adam did raise a good question. “I dunno. What do you think?”

“Well, do you want him to know? About…about us?”

“Yeah, course I do,” Ronan said. “I’m not gonna lie to him.”

“No, I know. I wouldn’t ask you to. And it’s not like I want this to be a secret. I just want to be able to enjoy this for a little while before everyone gets all obnoxious and intrusive. And I know that wouldn’t be Gansey but…”

“Aglionby,” Ronan finished for him.

“Exactly. Like, I don’t care what they say or think, but I want to be more used to this with you before we open ourselves up to scrutiny, I guess? Does that make sense?”

It pretty much summed up how Ronan himself had been feeling about it, only much more succinctly. He kissed Adam on the forehead. “Yup. I agree. We’ll play the Gansey thing by ear, see if he notices on his own or whatever, but we’ll leave it a couple weeks before I fucking—I dunno, before I hold your hand in the Aglionby parking lot.”

Adam laughed and dropped his head back onto Ronan’s chest. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“Yes, I want to hold your fucking hand. Fuck you. Go to sleep, Parrish.”

Adam reached across Ronan’s body to find his other hand and twined their fingers together. “Night, Ronan.”

Ronan closed his eyes. “Night, Adam.”

* * *

 

From there on out, Ronan and Adam snatched pockets of time wherever they could at school. Admittedly it was risky if they were trying to remain low-key, but they did manage a few all-too brief kisses in the library behind the bookshelves right at the back.

Whenever they were together in a group with Blue and Gansey, they were the same as they usually were, except that they perhaps sat a little closer together, always touching no matter how innocuously.

Gansey was still weirded out by how eager Ronan suddenly seemed to be for school, but had otherwise mentioned nothing. If Gansey were to outright ask if Ronan and Adam were making out at any given opportunity, then Ronan could just say yes and everything would be so much easier.

But Gansey just didn’t know what he was looking for.

Blue, on the other hand, was totally on to them. But then again, she’d been on to Ronan for a while now.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Adam look so relaxed,” she said one afternoon at Nino’s when Ronan had come up to the till alone to pay.

Ronan looked over his shoulder in time to see Adam laughing easily at whatever Gansey had just said. He turned back to Blue. “What’s your point?”

Blue rolled her eyes at his tone. “Alright, easy, Ronan, it’s an observation. And if you wanna get your head out of your ass, I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you. _Both_ of you. And I’m not asking you to confirm or deny anything so you can unclench now.”

Despite himself, Ronan laughed sharply. “Fuck you, Sargent. Okay.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Thanks or whatever, I guess.”

“Oh _wow,”_ Blue said wonderingly. “Did that hurt a little bit?”

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Do you think Gansey’s noticed?”

“Oh, he’s for sure noticed that something is up, but it would never even occur to him to consider what it actually is. I love him, but he’s an oblivious idiot.”

Blue realised what she’d said too late and her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant…oh _fuck.”_

“Sargent, are you in love with Gansey?” Ronan asked gleefully.

 _“Shh,_ he could _hear_ you!”

“Nah. Anyway, like you said, oblivious.”

Blue bit her lip and cut an anxious look over to the booth where Gansey and Adam were just getting up. “Don’t tell him, Ronan.”

“Come on, Sargent, who do you take me for?” He mimed zipping his mouth closed and stepped away as Gansey approached to say goodbye to Blue. Ronan gently put his hand on the small of Adam’s back. “Let’s wait outside.”

Adam waited until the doors had closed behind them before asking, “What was all that about?”

Ronan wouldn’t mention Blue’s personal slip-up, but Adam _did_ deserve to know part of the conversation. “She, uh, she knows. About…you know. Us.”

“You told her?” Adam seemed mildly surprised, but not upset.

“No, not exactly. Just, Blue already kind of knew how I felt about you because she was fucking paying attention I guess, and I think she’s sort of been expecting this to happen. She inferred, and I didn’t disagree with her. Is that okay?”

Adam smiled. “Yeah, it’s okay. She’s our friend. Will she tell Gansey so we don’t have to?”

“Oh shit, that would be ideal,” Ronan said, glancing through the windows. Gansey was just starting to make his way over to the exit. “Nah, she won’t though. It’s not hers to tell.”

“No, I guess not,” Adam said. “I wish he could just magically know without there having to be a conversation.”

“If only,” Ronan agreed.

In the end it wasn’t until the following Tuesday, over a week since Ronan and Adam had first kissed, that Gansey finally said something.

It was lunchtime in the cafeteria at Aglionby, and they were sitting at their usual table. Ronan and Adam were opposite each other, ankles hooked under the table.

Gansey had been talking about…something or other, Ronan wasn’t quite sure, too distracted by shooting Adam little smiles and reliving the hours they’d spent together at St Agnes the night before. In fact, his thoughts had wandered so much that he didn’t even notice Gansey had stopped talking until he was ruthlessly poked in the shoulder.

“Huh, what?” he said, whirling around to face Gansey. “What’s going on?”

Gansey looked thoroughly annoyed at the pair of them.

“I don’t want to sound like a baby, but it feels — _again,_ might I add — like everyone knows something I don’t. I’ve been really patient waiting for you to tell me when you’re ready, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen,” Gansey said. He smiled self-deprecatingly. “I thought we were being honest with each other now. Don’t you trust me?”

Ronan propped his elbow on the table and perched his chin in his hand. “I trust you.”

“You say that, but it doesn’t seem like you mean it.”

“Honestly, Gansey, it’s probably not what you think,” Adam interjected, probably trying to be helpful.

“Well _you_ know. Ronan’s obviously seen fit to tell you whatever it is, so that’s easy for you to say, Adam.”

Ronan sighed. “He knows because he’s involved. Like, directly.”

Gansey’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Ronan and Adam looked at each other in a wordless exchange. Ronan raised his eyebrows in question and Adam smiled and shrugged in acceptance, then nodded.

Ronan sighed again. “Okay, Gansey, we’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to be embarrassing about this.”

“Excuse me,” Gansey said haughtily. “When have I _ever_ been embarrassing about anything?”

“Gansey. Come on now.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Gansey said. “Carry on.”

“Me and Adam are sort of…a thing now.”

Ronan could practically see the gears whirring in Gansey’s head as he put it together.

“A thing?” Adam said. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“A thing as in…” Gansey said carefully, waiting for them to fill in the gaps, clearly eager not to overstep.

“As in we make out now,” Adam said bluntly. Ronan had just taken a giant gulp of water and nearly choked on it.

“Jesus, Adam.”

“What? It’s true.”

Ronan grinned at him. “Yeah, it’s true.” He turned back to Gansey. “It’s not that we didn’t trust you. We just didn’t want it to be awkward. Plus it’s kind of new.”

Gansey still looked a little shell-shocked, but as he looked between the two of them, understanding slowly spread across his face. “Oh,” he said. “Well this explains a _lot.”_

“Like what?” Adam asked.

“Like why Ronan’s been Aglionby’s number one fan for the last week, for starters.” Gansey smiled. “So you’re…together?”

The cafeteria had almost completely emptied by now, and when Ronan reached his hand across the table, Adam didn’t even hesitate before taking it.

He was pretty sure he was blushing, but Ronan still managed a nonchalant shrug.

“Yeah, Gansey. We’re together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot? i don't know her. lmao i'm sorry, after a hiatus i needed to ease back into the fic and also ronan and adam deserve good things uninterrupted for a little while. don't worry the plot's around here somewhere, i'll find it :)
> 
> title from the song ready or not by myzica because i listened to it on repeat while writing this.


	16. happy birthday, are you lonely yet?

“It’s your birthday next week.”

Ronan didn’t lift his head up from checking through Adam’s Latin homework. “I’m aware,” he said. Then, just to be a shit, “This last part is wrong, by the way.”

“What?” Adam frowned and pulled his worksheet back towards him. His brow furrowed as he read through his last section again and then he looked up at Ronan and scowled. “No it isn’t.”

Ronan grinned and gently flicked Adam’s nose. “Top marks, Parrish.”

Adam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and packed his school-bag for the following day while Ronan got himself settled in bed.

Adam disappeared into the bathroom to do his ablutions, and when he came out again he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t  _ ask _ me a question.” Ronan shifted closer to the wall to make room as Adam switched the light off then padded over to join him. It was amazing how quickly this had all become routine, staying over at Adam’s most nights, sharing the same bed, kisses and cuddles and holding hands. A little bubble of happiness welled up in Ronan every time he thought about it. 

“It was implied,” Adam finally said when he had got himself comfortable. When Ronan didn’t respond, Adam sighed a sigh of the very tired and cranky. “Come  _ on, _ Lynch, just tell me what you want for your birthday.”

All Ronan really wanted for his birthday was things he couldn’t have. He wanted to see Aurora smile without an ounce of sadness in it. He wanted Declan to stop running Niall Lynch’s shady business or whatever the fuck he got up to in D.C. and act like the 19 year old kid he was for a change. He wanted to go home. He wanted his dad back.

Unfortunately, none of this could be bought at Cabeswater Comics Emporium, even with Adam’s employee discount.

“It doesn’t matter, Parrish. I don’t want you to get me anything.”

“That’s really not as helpful as you think it is.”

Ronan shrugged. “I didn’t particularly think I was being helpful.”

His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the dark yet, but he heard the little huff of laughter that Adam unwittingly let out, and he felt it on his cheek. It was enough to make him close the gap and kiss Adam.

And then there was this, and only this; Adam’s lips soft and warm and pliant against Ronan’s own, letting any other thoughts vanish from Ronan’s head at least for as long as the kiss lasted.

“You’re not getting off the hook that easy,” Adam said against Ronan’s mouth.

Ronan pulled away and rolled over onto his back with a groan. “Parrish…”

“I’m serious, Ronan.” There was just a hint of irritation to Adam’s tone, enough for Ronan to pay closer attention. “I’m not gonna be the asshole who doesn’t get his boyfriend a birthday present.”

“Okay, fine,” Ronan said. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Ronan sighed and braced himself for an argument. “I don’t want you to spend any money on me.”

A brittle silence followed, and Adam’s tone was icy when he responded. “I know how to budget, you know. I wasn’t exactly going to buy you a fucking Lamborghini.”

“Aw, man, but that’s  _ exactly _ what I wanted,” Ronan said in an effort to break the tension. 

It only worked because Adam was clearly so tired. He huffed his displeasure and rolled over so his back was to Ronan, but he reached back in clear invitation. Ronan scooted over and wrapped an arm around him, and Adam took Ronan’s hand and held it loosely up against his chest.

“You’re impossible,” he mumbled. “And an asshole.”

Ronan kissed the back of his neck. “I know.”

“I’m getting you a birthday present.”

“You do that.”

 

* * *

 

To Ronan’s intense relief, there was no further mention about his birthday from Adam the next day, and although Ronan doubted the conversation was forgotten, it was at least no longer ongoing. They finished out school for the week and barreled into the weekend.

With the Gray Man still AWOL and Declan no further to finding the missing puzzle-box, Ronan was at a loss over what steps he could take next in order to end his family’s exile. Gansey had taken to the whole ‘investigation’ with gusto, doing his utmost to buoy Ronan’s spirits when his aimless rage seemed likely to swallow him whole.

As a result, Saturdays had become Gansey’s mystery-solving allotted time. Adam and Blue were usually absent for at least part of the day due to shifts at their respective jobs, so for the most part it was just Gansey and Ronan and no other distractions.

This particular Saturday afternoon, he and Ronan were spread out on the floor of Monmouth, tossing back and forth half-baked theories that weren’t getting them anywhere, and which were causing Ronan nothing but frustration.

He kept glancing at his bedroom door. Adam was currently napping in there, snatching moments in between a Cabeswater shift and a Boyd’s shift. Ronan didn’t want to disturb him, as tempting as it was.

“Show me the will again,” Gansey said, drawing Ronan’s attention back. Ronan got to his feet and took his copy of his father’s will out of a draw in a nearby desk and passed it over to Gansey.

It wasn’t the first time Gansey had read through it. Ronan wasn’t sure what his friend thought he was going to find. A code of some sort hidden within, maybe. But the thing about codes was that you had to know how to recognise them, and then how to break them. If there was one embedded in the complicated legal jargon in the last will and testament of Niall Lynch, then it was buried deep. 

To Gansey’s credit, he  _ was _ good at cracking codes. Unfortunately, his knowledge of legal language was barely better than Ronan’s, and it didn’t take long for him to let out a long sigh of frustration.

“I’m not sure there’s even anything here to find,” he admitted to Ronan, which was what Ronan had been afraid of.

“Can I see that?”

Ronan and Gansey both looked up at Adam’s voice. He was standing in Ronan’s now open doorway in a Coca Cola t-shirt and a pair of Ronan’s sweatpants. His hair was sticking up in tufts on one side, and Chainsaw was on his opposite shoulder, her head ducking into Adam’s neck.

Ronan felt his ears turn pink.

Gansey held the will out towards Adam. “Here, Parrish, see what you can make of it.”

Adam padded over and took the will then sat down cross-legged next to Ronan. Chainsaw hopped down and into Ronan’s lap; he gently stroked the feathers on the back of her head then let her scuttle off to cause a ruckus.

While Adam was reading, Gansey lay on the floor on his back. He pushed his glasses up onto his head and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Ronan suspected he’d had somewhat of a sleepless night.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to do,” he said, dropping his hands from his face and gesticulating in a way that gave away his annoyance. “It feels like, at least until Mr Gray shows up again — if he ever  _ does _ — we don’t really have a direction to go down. From what you said, Ronan, Mr Gray knows more than even Declan does.”

“Possibly,” Ronan said, and then amended slightly. “Probably. It depends on how honest Declan’s deciding to be.”

Gansey lifted his head to give Ronan the full effect of his frown. “I thought Declan had told you everything he knows now.”

Ronan shrugged. “So he says. I’ve only got his word to go on, and his word’s not been too fucking truthful for the last couple of years, so what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

Gansey dropped his head back down again. “Alright,” he said, but he sounded very unhappy about it. “That’s a pretty good point.”

Ronan kicked lightly at Gansey’s foot. “What about your new best mate Henry Cheng. Has he said anything suspicious?”

Gansey snorted. “Of course not. It’s all student government and toga parties and video games. And Madonna. You know…friend stuff. He’s never mentioned anything about your family at all.”

Ronan was starting to think that if he wanted to find out whether or not Henry actually knew anything useful, he’d have to ask him himself.

“Although,” Gansey continued, “he did mention that his mother was coming into town soon for a short visit.”

Ronan snapped to attention; that was interesting. Seondeok had known his father, after all. “I’ll talk to Declan tomorrow, see if he knows that. Maybe he’s supposed to be selling her something.”

“Or maybe she’s just visiting her son,” Gansey pointed out.

“Why not both? Two birds, one stone,” Ronan said.

“This seems potentially significant,” Adam broke in quietly.

Both Ronan and Gansey looked to him immediately, and Ronan leaned over to look at the document in Adam’s hands. “What does?”

Adam tapped his finger on the final sentence of the will just before the signatures, where it said:  **THIS WILL STANDS AS FACT UNLESS A NEWER DOCUMENT IS FOUND.**

“Have you ever noticed that part before?” Adam asked.

Ronan frowned. He’d read this will several times, so it wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed it, it was just that he’d been a bit preoccupied with the mind-fuck of information prior.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Is it not just standard will stuff though?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said with a shrug. “I’ve never read a will before. It might not mean anything.”

But Ronan thought that it did, because Adam wouldn’t have brought it up if he thought it was meaningless. “Parrish, tell me what  _ you _ think it means.”

Adam looked at Ronan, his expression complicated. Then he carefully put the will on the floor and flattened it out. Gansey was watching on bright-eyed and eager, awaiting a clue.

“Alright, Ronan, but like I said, it really might not mean anything. I don’t want to get your hopes up, so this is just a theory, okay? I’m not saying this is fact.”

“Got it, Parrish,” Ronan said. “I have no fucking hopes at all, just tell me.” But he couldn’t deny that his treacherous heart was racing in anticipation.

Adam looked down at the will again, underlining the sentence with his finger. “It says this will stands unless a newer document is found.  _ Found,” _ he reiterated with emphasis. “Like…why would it be phrased like that unless there was actually a document to  _ find?” _

There was a moment of pensive silence before Gansey breathed out slowly. “Adam. That’s  _ brilliant.” _

Adam shook his head ardently. “We don’t know that.” He looked anxiously to Ronan.

“So what you’re saying,” Ronan said slowly, “is that there’s a possibility of a document existing that was created  _ after _ this one, and if we find it then it nullifies everything that’s in this version?”

“No, not necessarily. It depends on what the newer document  _ says, _ if it even exists.”

Variables. There were always more variables; nothing could ever be a straightforward yes or no. But this was a lead. A potentially promising lead, and at the moment, it was literally all they had.

Ronan couldn’t help it. His traitorous hopes had risen. With little mind to Gansey sitting right there, Ronan grabbed Adam’s face and gave him a short, brisk kiss. “Parrish, you’re a genius.”

Adam looked a little surprised and a little pleased, but was naturally quick to downplay it as Ronan hurriedly got to his feet. “Remember, Lynch, it’s just a maybe. No promises.”

“I hear you.” He took the will back over to the desk and grabbed a notebook and and pen.

“There are no bad ideas, Adam,” Gansey said helpfully.

“Yeah, thanks, Gansey,” Adam said with a self-deprecating little laugh. “What time is it?”

“Just after three.”

“Oh shit, I’ve gotta go,” Adam said, scrambling off to Ronan’s room. His shift at Boyd’s started at half-past, and once he’d quickly changed into his coveralls, he whirled on out of the apartment again after receiving a promise from Ronan to pick him up after work.

Once it was just the two of them again, Gansey came over and stood at Ronan’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Look,” Ronan said, and he pointed to the date at the top of his copy of Niall’s will. “This was written in July last year.” He then pointed to the notebook where he’d transcribed that date in a hasty scrawl. “And Dad died at the beginning of April of  _ this _ year. So if Adam’s right and there  _ is _ another document somewhere for us to find, it’ll have to have been written up between these two dates, otherwise it’ll be useless.”

He wrote down Niall’s death date and underlined it twice.

“That’s an eight and a half month window for something new to have been drawn up,” Gansey said. His brow was furrowed and he shook his head slightly, lips pursed.

“What’s the problem, Gansey?”

“I just don’t understand why your father would have felt the need to draw up something new when this will had already been updated relatively recently. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Neither does exiling his entire family from their home in the event of his death,” Ronan said sharply. “This is exactly why it  _ does _ make sense. This bullshit will is to protect us from whatever the fuck trouble he’d gotten himself into. The newer will, which we’re going to find, is for letting us go home when everything’s calmed down afterwards.”

Gansey nodded, but glanced at Ronan warily. “Remember what Adam said about getting your hopes up…”

“I  _ know, _ Gansey, but this is all I’ve got. Okay?”

“Okay.” And then, with more conviction, “Right. Where do we start?”

“I’ll talk to Declan tomorrow. And we’ll go from there.”

 

* * *

 

Ronan actually invited Declan round to Monmouth after church on Sunday, something he had never, ever done. (Matthew was sent along back to the Lynch apartment to help Aurora with lunch.)

Gansey was out with Blue and Adam was holed up in his room above the St Agnes rectory, doing homework. Ronan had plans to go and bother him later.

“What’s this about?” Declan asked when they were finally inside the apartment. His question was for Ronan but he was watching Chainsaw warily; she was perched on the back of Gansey’s desk-chair, head cocked to the side as she took Declan in.

“Chill out, Dec, she won’t bite,” Ronan said. “Well, she  _ might. _ But only if you provoke her.”

Declan scowled. “I’m not gonna provoke your raven, Ronan.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He looked exceedingly weary, and Ronan felt of pang of concern for his brother and the weight he always seemed to carry with him these days.

“Gansey heard that Henry Cheng’s mother was coming into town soon for a visit. Did you know that?”

Declan fiddled with the cuff on his jacket. “I knew.”

“You have business with her? Shit to sell?”

Declan wouldn’t meet Ronan’s eyes. “I have some…stock to show her.”

Ronan wasn’t sure how he felt about Declan referring to stolen goods as mere ‘stock’, but he supposed they had to call it something non-incriminating. He didn’t see why Declan felt the need to be so cloak-and-dagger about it in front of him though.

“Don’t be so cagey. We both know it’s stolen so you don’t have to pretend in front of me. And I’m not going to tell anyone.”

With an eye-roll that Ronan was nearly proud of and a tone dripping with disdain, Declan said, “You told Gansey and Parrish and Blue.”

Ronan considered this. “Alright, man, well I’m not going to tell anyone  _ else. _ No one who doesn’t already know.”

“Good to know,” Declan said. “That all you wanted to tell me?”

“No,” Ronan said. “I need to show you something.”

He retrieved his copy of the will and went through Adam’s theory about the newer will that might grant them the freedom to go home.

Declan listened quietly and attentively and was silent for an excruciatingly long time after Ronan had finished his explanation.

“Well?” Ronan finally said, frustrated with the lack of a response. “What do you think?”

Declan frowned. “I don’t know  _ what _ to think, Ronan. I feel like you’re taking a big leap here.”

“Am I, though?” Ronan jabbed the bottom of the will. “That sentence serves  _ no _ fucking purpose unless there’s something for us to find.”

Taking the will from Ronan’s hand, Declan studied the last section. He screwed up his face and sighed, exhausted or frustrated, Ronan couldn’t tell. “Okay. Yes. Maybe. It’s definitely weird.”

“So you’ll look for a newer document then? Up in D.C. with the rest of Dad’s ‘business’ stuff?”

“I can look, Ronan, but honestly, there’s not a lot of documents for me to even  _ look _ through.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dad dealt in stolen goods for fuck’s sake, he didn’t exactly want to leave a paper trail.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get that, smarty-pants. Surely this makes it easier for you to look though?”

“Yes, but my  _ point _ is, I’ve already looked through what little there already is there. Pretty sure I would’ve noticed if there was an updated version of Dad’s will.”

Ronan was absolutely determined not to let Declan’s negativity get to him. “You could’ve missed it. If you didn’t know to look for it, you easily could’ve passed over it without realising what it was. Look again.”

Declan opened his mouth as if to argue again, but seemed to reconsider at whatever he saw on Ronan’s face. “I’ll look again.”  

* * *

 

 

The week passed by slowly. Declan wouldn’t be back in D.C. until Friday so there were no updates on finding a different will. Ronan was having to be patient, which was difficult when it really felt like time was against them.

Saturday was Ronan’s 18th birthday.

He didn’t have anything planned. Adam had been unable to get out of work, and plans with Adam were the only kind Ronan would have bothered to make.

He always used to enjoy his birthdays, and by all accounts this one seemed to be a big one. If he went to the UK, he’d now legally be able to drink alcohol. Although the legality might take all the fun out of it; it was probably best he lived in America.

The main  _ problem _ with this particular birthday was that it was the first since his father had died. 

It wasn’t even like Niall had never missed Ronan’s birthday, because the truth was that Ronan could count on one hand the number of his birthdays Niall had actually shown up for. But there would always be a card, a gift, a phone-call. 

It didn’t matter that Niall wasn’t always physically there, because he never forgot. Not once.

This year Niall’s absence would only serve to be even more glaring, because it would be accompanied by radio silence. Ronan would never hear his father wish him a happy birthday ever again.

As a result, Ronan’s mood had tanked before he even made it out of the bed in the morning. He might have stayed there all day, but he could hear Gansey moving around the apartment and soon the distinct smell of something burning wafted under the crack in Ronan’s door. He dragged himself out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and went to check Gansey wasn’t burning the place down.

He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Gansey was looking incredibly hot and bothered over the stove, frying pan in hand and a messy bowl of pancake batter sitting on the counter beside him.

“Morning,” Ronan said.

Gansey, who obviously hadn’t heard Ronan’s approach, yelped in surprise and almost dropped the frying pan. “Ronan!” he exclaimed. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks. Need some help?”

“No, no, sit down, sit down!” He really did seem very flustered. “I’m making you birthday pancakes.”

“That’s sweet, man,” Ronan said, warmed by the gesture despite himself. He peered into the frying pan at the very black pancake that Gansey was currently trying to flip-over. It was stuck to the bottom and would not budge. “Uh…do you have any that don’t look like that?”

“This is the first one,” Gansey said miserably. “I thought this pan was supposed to be non-stick.”

Ronan turned the heat off, took the pan from Gansey and headed over to the sink. “I think we better start again.”

It took Ronan a good fifteen minutes to scrape what he could of the burnt pancake off and then scrub the frying pan clean, but once it was shiny and sparkling again, he set it back on the stove. Gansey made a beeline for it, but Ronan held his hand up to stop him. “It’s all good, Gansey, I’ll make them.”

“But it’s  _ your _ birthday,” Gansey complained. “It was supposed to be a treat.”

“It’s still a treat, you sorted the batter out already. I just get to do the fun part. I fucking love flipping pancakes.” Ronan grinned at his friend and Gansey finally acquiesced, although he still looked discomfited. He leaned against the door frame while Ronan cooked, and kept glancing at his phone as if he was expecting a message.

“Not seeing Blue today?”

“She’s, um...she’s at work,” Gansey said distractedly, and Ronan got back to the task at hand.

He managed to make a generous number of pancakes out of the mixture that was left, and he halved the stack between himself and Gansey, topping them with plenty of butter and syrup.

After they’d finished eating, even though Ronan would have been happy to leave them, Gansey insisted that they wash up the dishes and get the kitchen back to a relatively tidy state. Ronan went along with it because it was, to be fair, pretty messy in there, and also because at least it was a distraction.

When it was done, Ronan grabbed his car keys and made for the door, but Gansey stepped into his path.

“Where are you going?”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “…Out?”

“Yes, but where?”

“I dunno, man, for a drive I guess.” Ronan shrugged. “Might go see Adam.”

Gansey frowned. “At work?”

“It’s not like Noah’ll care.”

“He might, though,” Gansey insisted. “You’re always there distracting Adam, Noah’s probably just too polite to say anything even though you’re probably in the way.”

“Have you ever  _ met _ Noah? Honestly, Gansey, he won’t fucking care.” 

Where this was coming from, Ronan had no idea. Gansey, too, had wasted afternoons at Cabeswater, and so should know for a fact that Noah wouldn’t be perturbed by their presence.

“If it gets busy, I’ll just leave,” Ronan continued. “It’s not an issue.”

Gansey still looked worried, but then his phone buzzed with an incoming message and he almost dropped it in his haste to read it. His expression cleared a little and he looked back at Ronan and smiled. “Right. Of course you’re right. Can I come too?”

He didn’t wait to see if it was okay for him to come and made straight for the door, but Ronan didn’t mind all that much. He followed Gansey out and down the stairs to the car. “Dude. What is  _ with _ you today, you’re so fucking twitchy.”

“Nothing is  _ with _ me, I’m just…” Gansey trailed off and shrugged. “Too much caffeine this morning.”

“I didn’t see you drink a single cup of coffee.”

“Ah, but I was up for hours before you made an appearance,” Gansey pointed out. Ronan would have to just take his word on that one.

In the car, Ronan had just started the engine when Gansey turned to him and said, “Hey, are you going to go and see your mom? You should really go, let her make a fuss out of you for a bit.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ronan said. “I was gonna go later.”

“Or,” Gansey said, holding up a finger like he’d just had an ingenious idea, “you could go now and then you’ll have more time with Adam later when he’s finished with work.”

It was a good enough point. “But then you’d have to come with me.”

Gansey shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Ronan rolled his eyes fondly. “You’re just hoping there’ll be cake at my mom’s.”

“A boy can dream,” Gansey said.

Ronan started to drive, heading the direction of the Lynch apartment. Gansey tapped away at his phone briefly but then put it in his pocket and struck up a very one-sided conversation about the research he’d been doing surrounding what Monmouth Manufacturing actually used to manufacture. (So far, he’d come up empty.)

There were no other cars out front when they arrived so Ronan managed to park right in front of the apartment. He checked the time as they headed inside — almost 2pm, which meant that Matthew should have dragged himself out of bed by now and Ronan could see him too while he was here.

He used his key to get in and called out, “Mom, it’s me. And Gansey.”

“In here, sweetheart!” came the reply, and Ronan and Gansey followed her voice through to the living room.

A chorus of voices yelled out, “SURPRISE!” and Ronan stumbled back into Gansey, who steadied him with a hand at his elbow. 

In the living room were all of Ronan’s favourite people. Noah, beer in hand, standing with Matthew and Declan, the latter of whom wore a self-conscious smile like he wasn’t sure he should be here. Aurora was in the centre of the room holding an impressive looking three-tiered chocolate cake with two lit candles on top; a 1 and an 8. To Aurora’s left was a beaming Blue. And there, with Blue’s arm linked through his, stood Adam. He smiled sheepishly at Ronan and shrugged.

Ronan looked over his shoulder at Gansey, who looked thoroughly relieved that the jig was now up. The reason for his odd behaviour all morning was suddenly all too obvious.

“You—” Ronan started, but was interrupted when Gansey hugged him.

“That was so stressful,” Gansey said. “I hope you’re surprised.” He pulled away and then lightly shoved at Ronan’s shoulder, prompting Ronan to take a step further into the room.

Surprised didn’t even cut it.

He couldn’t believe everyone was here just for him.

“Happy birthday, Ronan,” Aurora said. Her voice was soft, her eyes shining. She held out the cake towards him. “Make a wish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there was more i wanted to include in this chapter but it was getting too long and also it's been like 3 months almost so i wanted to post something. so this is like part 1 of this chapter and part 2 will hopefully not take too long to do (i can at least promise it won't be 3 months again!) things have been happening and i didn't have room in my brain for this fic because it involves thinking about plot points (not that you can tell from the content lmao) and i just wanted to do fun fluffy little prompt fills instead (honestly i always like doing those ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ ). thanks for your patience! <3
> 
> chapter title is from the idlewild song love steals us from loneliness


	17. it's my party and I'll cry if I want to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might find it useful to re-read the last chapter before reading this one as it really does follow right on from it and as it's been a while since i updated, it might be handy to remind yourselves! (you don't have to obviously, just a suggestion <3)

Once Ronan had blown out his birthday candles, hoping his silent wish that he and his family would be back home before his next birthday would be granted, Matthew ushered him into the armchair in the corner and proclaimed that it was time for presents.

It was hard not to feel scrutinised having everyone watch as he opened his gifts, but Aurora had turned some music on and people were making their own conversations, so at least it wasn’t deathly silent as Ronan made his way through the pile of gifts on the coffee table.

In the order of opening them, Ronan received:

  * From Matthew: a car air-freshener shaped like a raven in the scent of Royal Pine, and a set of dinosaur string lights that were potentially the coolest things Ronan had ever seen.
  * From Blue: a blue and black geometric patterned beanie that she’d crocheted herself. (”It’s getting colder,” she said. “I worry about your ears.”)
  * From Noah: a gift token to his own store (”That’s _cheating,”_ Matthew said), along with two new leather bands and a raven key-chain. (Ronan sensed a Chainsaw related theme.)
  * From Declan: a fancy new pair of headphones, much needed as Ronan’s were falling to pieces due to excessive use. He was genuinely touched, both by the gift and by Declan’s presence; he’d taken a day off from his internship to be here.
  * From Gansey: a pair of sunglasses (Ronan had accidentally sat on his last pair and bent them), and a magnetic poetry kit for the fridge. (Gansey: “I thought it might be fun.” Ronan: “You do realise I’m just gonna use this to write swear-words, right?”)



The last gift on the table was a rectangular box wrapped in brown paper, a simple gift-tag taped to the top. It read:

_This was the best I could do with short notice_

_Happy Birthday_

_Adam x_

Ronan reached for it and then hesitated. It was possible Adam didn’t want this to be opened with an audience.

He looked up, catching Adam’s eye. Adam was wearing the glimmer of an anticipatory smile and he nodded just once at Ronan’s unspoken question.

Intrigued, Ronan returned his attention to the gift. He pulled the tag off the paper and surreptitiously put it in his pocket, not looking up to see if anyone had noticed, then ripped the top of the paper off and peered inside at his gift. He grinned and once again glanced at Adam.

“Are you shitting me, Parrish?”

Adam shrugged but he smiled, clearly pleased with himself.

“What is it?” Matthew asked, and Ronan tore the rest of the paper off.

Adam’s gift to Ronan, really, was an inside joke. A nod to a conversation from a week earlier that might have been forgotten about or rendered inconsequential, but instead Adam had now immortalised it. No one else would get the sentiment behind it, but Ronan did, and a laugh escaped from his chest. “It’s a remote-control Lamborghini.”

Not enough people appreciated how funny Adam could be.

“That’s _awesome,_ can I have a go?” Matthew was already reaching for it but Ronan hugged it to his chest and got to his feet.

“Alright, Matty, wait your turn,” Aurora said. “Birthday boy goes first.”

Ronan rolled his eyes fondly. “Thanks, Mom.” He took the car straight outside, Matthew right on his heels and another, slower set of footsteps following. Footsteps that Ronan recognised as Adam’s.

Out on the sidewalk, Ronan removed the car and the control from its box and handed it to Matthew. “Put that in the recycling,” he told his brother.

“Hang on, Ronan, there’s instructions in here,” Matthew said.

Ronan scoffed; instructions were for the weak. Besides, it was a remote-control car, not a spaceship. “How hard can it be?”

Matthew trotted off towards the recycling bins as Ronan set the car — which was a fantastically garish lime-green colour — on the sidewalk. When pressing a couple of buttons on the controls did nothing, Ronan opened up the battery pack.

“The fuck, no batteries?” he muttered. Adam sidled up to him and pulled some triple A’s out of his pocket.

“I thought these might come in handy,” he said. Ronan took them, and with a quick glance around to confirm they were still alone, kissed Adam on the cheek.

“Thanks, Parrish. You’re a little shit, you know that?”

Adam grinned, pleased. “I know.”

Ronan put the batteries in place and switched the button to ‘on’, rewarded with a red light in the corner. He pushed the joystick forwards, and the car shot off down the sidewalk, much quicker than he’d expected. Ronan let out an exuberant cheer.

Matthew returned then, and Ronan talked him into racing the car up and down the street. Everyone else trickled outside to watch, and soon Matthew wanted a go, and then Noah, and so on, and soon Ronan and Adam were standing alone, watching the fun.

Quietly, Adam said, “One day, I’ll get you a real one.”

There was a twinkle in his eye, a laugh in his voice, and yet a dusting of pink on his cheeks. It sounded like a promise, and Ronan didn’t have the words to respond. He reached down and linked his pinky with Adam’s, and hoped that he understood.

* * *

 

Later on, Aurora held court in the living room, recalling some of Ronan’s childhood birthdays in that easy way of hers. She never mentioned Niall, but that only served to make his absence more glaring for Ronan. It was like space had been carved out of the room to make up for where his father should have been. It was a vice on Ronan’s heart, even as he laughed and enjoyed the company of his friends and family.

Music from Aurora’s radio played in the background while they picked at the finger food she had put together, and everyone ate a slice or two of cake. Noah had to leave after that, Declan disappeared into his room on the phone, and Matthew roped Ronan’s friends into a Mario Kart competition.

After Ronan had relinquished his controller so Gansey could have a go, Aurora gently put her hand on his arm and when he turned, gestured that he follow her.

She led the way into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” she said, and Ronan perched on the edge of the bed. He thought he knew what this was; not that he wanted anything else, but there hadn’t been a present from Aurora in the pile that he’d opened earlier on.

Aurora opened the top drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a package wrapped in red tissue paper. She put it in Ronan’s hands.

It was soft, but there was something harder underneath.

“You can open it,” his mother said with a smile, sitting beside him.

Carefully, so he didn’t tear the paper (Aurora liked to reuse it), Ronan unwrapped the gift. On the top was something black and soft, and Ronan picked it up and unfolded it to get a good look. It was a sweater.

Beside him, Aurora sighed. “I know, I know, I did the boring mom thing. But it’s getting colder and you’ve grown and I don’t trust that you’ll dress appropriately left to your own devices.”

Ronan grinned. “It’s just my colour. Thanks, Mom.” He put the sweater aside and looked back into the wrappings at the other gift within.

It was a picture frame, prettily ordained with ornate leaves and vines. Inside the frame was a photograph. The last known photograph of the whole Lynch family, taken the summer before Niall had died.

The picture was taken on the patio out the back of the farmhouse at the Barns. The camera had been placed precariously on a tripod by Niall, and Matthew had been given control of the little remote to take the photographs without having to use a self-timer.

There had been several blurry write-offs as Matthew kept pressing the button too late or too early, and Ronan and Declan had wasted a few shots by jostling for position, elbows in sides, stepping on each other’s toes, their antagonism already in full-swing even with Niall still alive.

He got it now, looking back. Declan’s resentment was understandable given all the responsibility he’d been lumbered with behind the scenes. And yet Ronan had carried on like Niall was his hero, never knowing why Declan was so serious all the time, never stopping to really think about what his problem was.

They were brothers, so close in age, and so different. Of course they were going to fight.

In the picture — the one they finally managed to get, the one Ronan now had in a frame before him — there was none of that.

Aurora stood in the middle in between her eldest two sons, each arm linked through one of theirs. She’d put herself there to stop them shoving each other, but her smile was bright and wide, a laugh in her eyes. Niall stood behind her, his arms loosely wrapped around her, chin perched on her head. His eyes were closed, but he was grinning, all teeth.

Ronan had his other arm around Matthew, pulling him back against his chest. Matthew was looking at the camera and laughing, and Ronan was looking at his little brother with a fond smile on his face. On the opposite side, Declan was smiling too, although there was something a little wistful about his expression; he was facing the camera but watching his brothers out of the corner of his eye. Already so othered, even though they were still all together.

Ronan _remembered_ this day. They’d had a barbecue that afternoon, music blasting from the portable speaker. Niall had waltzed Aurora around the patio as their sons played catch with an old half-deflated football over on the grass. Niall had left again that night on another ‘business trip’. It was the last they’d seen of him for a month and a half.

The breath seized in Ronan’s chest and the noise he made was more of a ragged wheeze than anything else. He didn’t realise he was crying until Aurora said, “Oh, my sweet boy,” and took the frame out of his hands, folding herself around him.

He supposed there was something cathartic about crying into his mother’s shoulder on his eighteenth birthday.

The thing about grief was the weight of it, the way it got its claws into your heart and wouldn’t let go. Ronan could feel it sitting right there inside of him, so tangible that it felt like he should be able to claw it out of himself somehow; cut himself open, grab a hold and _pull._ It would hurt like hell, but then it would be gone.

It didn’t work like that, though. He _knew_ that. But it was hard to rationalise that when he was in so much pain.

And always, always there was the anger. There was the need to dole out blame. There was the incontrovertible fact that a portion of that blame lay squarely at his father’s feet, but that Ronan would never be able to address it. He’d never be able to shake Niall’s shoulders and ask him what the hell he’d been thinking. What the hell he’d _done._

He’d have to come to terms with that eventually. Just not today.

Ronan didn’t pull away from Aurora’s arms until the tears had stopped falling, and when he did he spotted tear-tracks on her own face. He wiped an errant tear off her cheek with his thumb and smiled sadly.

“Happy Birthday to me,” he joked, rewarded by a watery little laugh.

It fell silent for a little while, and then Aurora said, “I wanted to give you something of his. For your birthday.”

“Something of Dad’s?”

She nodded. “I tried to think of what he would’ve got for you if he was here, but I couldn’t imagine anything. It would have been something weird and wonderful from wherever he happened to be at that particular time, and it would’ve been irreplaceable.” She looked at Ronan. “But he’s _not_ here. So I thought, in this case, he’d want you to have something of his. That old pocket watch he had, remember? Or his ridiculous old leather jacket. Or his copy of Alice in Wonderland. You always liked it best.”

Ronan closed his eyes.

“But I couldn’t even do that for you, because we’re not allowed to go home. All that stuff is right where it was left, and we have no way of getting to it.”

Guilt swirled in Ronan’s stomach, that he’d been home without her knowing. That he’d even taken something; the birdcage. He should’ve got something for her too. But then she’d know he’d been there, and he didn’t want her to be disappointed.

He opened his eyes again. Aurora was looking out of the window, a distant expression on her face. It cleared, and she smiled and took Ronan’s hand. “Instead I got you a sweater and a photograph that made you cry.”

He squeezed her hand. “Maybe it was the sweater that made me cry.”

She laughed at that, properly, not the weak sounding thing from before. When it died away again, Ronan said, “If the lawyers called tomorrow and said we could go home, would you want to?” She frowned and looked at him, not understanding. “Or do you just want to move on, here?”

Aurora shook her head. “This isn’t…this isn’t moving on, Ronan. It’s purgatory.”

He made a little distressed sound without meaning to, and Aurora’s eyes widened, eager to reassure. “I just mean,” she started, before breaking off with a sigh, searching for the words. “The circumstances being what they _are,_ moving on seems to be an impossibility. So to answer your question, yes, I’d want to go home.”

Her answer echoed Ronan’s own, but he wasn’t satisfied. He needed to know why. “Wouldn’t it be too painful? Without Dad there?”

The ghost of a smile floated across Aurora’s face. “I was there without your dad plenty of times.” She cupped Ronan’s cheek. “I raised my babies in that house, Ronan. Not everything is about him.” She frowned at herself. “Oh, that sounds awful.”

“No,” Ronan said, covering her hand with his own. “I get it.”

His feelings about the Barns were irrevocably tied to his father, but also irrevocably tied to his childhood, and Niall hadn’t been around all of the time. Niall might have been responsible for a lot of the magic that the Barns seemed to hold, but Aurora was the one who had made it a home. It was hers, more than it had ever been Niall’s.

She got to her feet abruptly, as if to shake off the painful conversation. She took Ronan’s sweater and the picture frame and put them in a tote bag that she pulled out of the bottom of her closet. “We can put the rest of your gifts in here, too, so it’s easy to take back to Monmouth.” She put it on the floor by the door and then glanced in the mirror, checking her face, wiping the remnants of the tears away with a tissue.

Ronan remained where he was seated on the bed, but she caught his eye in the reflection and smiled.

“Adam’s gift was nice. Why a Lamborghini?”

“Oh.” Ronan shrugged, trying not to smile. “It was just something he said last week. It’s a joke.”

Aurora’s smile grew bigger and encouraging. “You know, Adam’s been here a couple of times this week helping me plan this little party for you.”

That, Ronan hadn’t been expecting. “He has?”

“He has. He helped me make your birthday cake last night. He was here early this morning helping Matthew blow up balloons and put up banners. He seemed a bit nervous.”

“Really?”

Aurora nodded. “I think he really wanted you to have a nice birthday.” She grinned. “The way he looks at you, Ronan, my goodness. The way you look at _him.”_

“Jesus, Mom, _stop.”_ Ronan covered his face with his hands, then peered at his mother through the gaps in his fingers. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

“That depends, sweetheart. Is there something you’d like to share?”

He groaned. “Mom, it’s not a secret.”

She smiled serenely. “What isn’t?” When Ronan sighed, she said, a little firmer, “To clarify, Ronan, I’m not trying to make you say anything you’re not ready to say. I just need to know what you’re okay with me knowing, and branching off of that, what you’re okay with your brothers knowing. Bearing in mind Matthew attends the same school as you and might say things without thinking.”

Her expression was fiercely protective, her meaning clear: _Are you out at school? Is Adam? Are you comfortable enough in your relationship to handle that kind of scrutiny?_

Although not overjoyed at the idea of the shitheads at school sticking their noses in, Ronan didn’t particularly care about what they might say. He doubted any of them would have the guts to say anything outright to him anyway; he could handle their whispers. But he didn’t want to speak for Adam.

Their closest friends already knew. Aurora already knew, even though she was clearly determined not to say it out loud without Ronan’s explicit permission — respect he only realised he’d even needed now that he knew he unquestionably had it. Ronan _wanted_ his family to know. Matthew would be careful about what he said at school if Ronan made a point of asking him.

He took a breath.

“We’re together, Mom. Me and Adam.” He watched her closely for a reaction, but all she did was smile. She didn’t speak, waiting for Ronan to finish. “It’s been a few weeks now. Gansey and Blue know. I’m pretty sure Noah knows because apparently he’s like…fucking omniscient. Oh shit, sorry, didn’t mean to swear.” Aurora shook her head in amusement. Apparently he was getting a pass. Birthday privileges. “And I’m happy for you to know, and Matthew and Declan. But no, we haven’t exactly broadcast it at school.”

She nodded. “That’s fine, sweetheart. You can take your time.”

“It’s not a secret,” he reiterated. He didn’t want her to think he was ashamed. (How could he _ever_ be ashamed of Adam?)

“I know it’s not.”

“It’s just… _ours.”_

Aurora kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you for telling me.”

* * *

 

They left shortly after that; Ronan, Gansey, Adam, and Blue. Aurora had sent them off with leftover food and cake and a reminder to Ronan about lunch the following day. She offered an open invitation to the rest of them with a pointed look at Adam, who blushed and said he had to work, but maybe next week.

The four of them went back to Monmouth in Ronan’s BMW. Gansey and Blue busied themselves finding fridge space for all their leftovers, and Ronan went straight through to his bedroom, Adam trailing behind him.

Chainsaw had been out all day so Ronan opened the window so that if she was nearby somewhere watching, she could come back in. The sun was almost down and the temperature was starting to drop considerably, so Ronan pulled on his new sweater. It was soft and comfortable, and with the conversation with Aurora still so fresh in his memory, it sort of made Ronan want to cry again.

He didn’t, though. Adam was watching him.

Adam seemed to have noticed that Ronan’s mood had dipped a bit, although he hadn’t asked why. Ronan was grateful for that; he wasn’t sure what he’d say. Instead, he caught Adam’s hand in his and tugged him close enough to wrap his arms around him.

Adam immediately hugged him back, pressing his face into Ronan’s shoulder. They stood there for a while, and when Adam spoke, it came out muffled. “Did you have a nice birthday?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, and he meant it.

“Are you okay?”

Ronan sniffed, broke the hug, and stepped away. He smiled sharply. “I’m always okay, Parrish.”

Adam smiled back; it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Liar.”

Ronan figured it didn’t count as lying if Adam knew he was bullshitting anyway and he shrugged. He reached into his tote bag full of gifts and carefully pulled out the photograph. He looked at it for a moment, considering putting it on his dresser or his bedside table.

In the end, with shaking hands, he placed it face down — albeit gently — in his dresser drawer. Until he could look at it without forgetting how to breathe, he couldn’t have it on display. He already knew what he’d lost; he didn’t need a reminder every morning.

Ronan took a steadying breath and turned back around to Adam, feeling achy and tired, eyes itchy and uncomfortable. Adam was in a long-sleeved t-shirt but it didn’t look particularly thick and he was shivering slightly. Ronan grabbed a hoodie off the back of a chair and wordlessly pressed it into Adam’s chest as he walked out of the room.

* * *

 

Chainsaw returned a short time later, soaring through the window in Ronan’s room and into the main living area of Monmouth. She landed on the main street of Gansey’s miniature Henrietta then promptly walked into the miniature bank and knocked it over.

“Fuck yeah,” Ronan said. “Fuck capitalism. Chainsaw gets it.”

“You get that you’re rich, right?” Adam asked.

“I do.”

Adam hummed sleepily. “Just checking.”

Despite the fact that there was a sofa and Gansey’s bed that any of them could have chosen to sit on, all four of them had instead opted for the floor.

Ronan was against the wall; Adam had sat between his legs and had his back against Ronan’s chest. His head kept lolling and then jerking up again as he fought with his lethargy.

“Sleep,” Ronan whispered into his good ear.

“No,” Adam whispered back stubbornly.

Blue was leaning against Gansey’s bed-frame, Gansey lying on his back beside her, his head in her lap, eyes closed. He’d taken his glasses off and tucked them into the collar of his shirt. Blue was taking clips from her own hair and putting them in Gansey’s.

“When you were a kid,” she said, talking to the room at large, “what did you want to be when you grew up?”

Without opening his eyes, Gansey murmured, “Indiana Jones.”

This ripped a laugh out of Ronan; the movement jostled Adam and he made a grumpy little sound.

Gansey’s eyes flew open. “Did I say that out loud?”

“You sure did, Dick,” Blue said. “I _could_ list all the ways in which Indiana Jones is incredibly misogynistic and racist, but I’m sensing you’re too tired for that.”

Gansey pouted. “You’re not going to ruin Indiana Jones for me, are you?”

She bent down and kissed his cheek. “Absolutely I am.”

The conversation derailed from there, following peaks and troughs as everyone tiredly went off on tangents before forgetting their points completely.

At some point, they must have all fallen asleep, because the next thing Ronan was aware of was something nudging against his arm. He drowsily came to and looked down; Chainsaw was just checking he was still alive.

“I’m alright, turd,” he said quietly, and, satisfied, she marched back to Ronan’s room.

Adam was still warm in Ronan’s arms, breathing evenly. It was dark in Monmouth apart from a sliver of moonlight shining through the window and across the floor. Ronan wasn’t sure what time it was, but it felt late.

He looked over at Blue and Gansey, slumped over each other.

“Hey,” he said. They didn’t move, and he pitched his voice higher. _“Hey.”_

Blue woke first, disoriented, then her expression gave way to panic when she realised where she was. She shook Gansey awake and hissed at Ronan, “What _time_ is it?”

He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Ah, shit. Like, one.”

“Oh my God, my mom is going to _kill_ me. Gansey, get up.”

He sat up groggily, hair sticking up all over the place thanks to Blue’s many multi-coloured clips. “Huh?”

“Get _up,_ you need to take me home so we can grovel to my mother in the hopes that she’ll let me see you again.”

“I thought your mom wasn’t big on giving you like, rules and shit,” Ronan said.

Blue got to her feet and hastily pulled Gansey up after her. “Yeah okay, Ronan, but the whole ‘not staying out until one in the morning without so much as a phone-call’ was sort of implied. I don’t think I’m gonna have the high ground here. Gansey, come _on.”_

She tugged on his arm, and finally the sense of urgency seemed to catch up with him as they hurried to the door.

“Oh, shit,” was the last thing Ronan heard Gansey say as they disappeared out of the apartment. A moment later, the Pig’s engine roared to life from the parking lot.

It was this that woke Adam up. He clutched closer into Ronan’s chest, screwing his face up against the noise, but then he sighed and slowly blinked his eyes open.

“Hey,” Ronan said softly.

Adam smiled. “Hey.”

“You should go to bed.” He nudged Adam until he moved and then got to his feet, stretching out.

He was filled with restless energy now that he’d slept for a little bit, and his mother’s words from earlier had been replaying on a loop in his head: _All that stuff is right where it was left, and we have no way of getting to it._

The updated will had to be at the Barns. It just _had_ to be.

Now that he’d formed the thought, he couldn’t let it go. Not until he’d been to check.

 _Bad idea,_ he told himself. _Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea._

Ronan had always been good at drowning out the voice of reason.

Adam had made it halfway to Ronan’s room before pausing when it was clear Ronan wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming?”

Ronan shook his head. “I’ve got to head out for a bit. I’ll be back before you wake up.”

“Where are you going?”

Silence was never a wrong answer.

“Ronan.”

He sighed. “Home.”

The last time he’d gone home, he’d run into the Gray Man. This didn’t seem wise. Adam would tell him not to.

But he didn’t. He just nodded and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“It isn’t safe,” Ronan said.

“Then don’t go.”

He closed his eyes. “I have to.”

Adam shrugged. “Then so do I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember last time when i said it wouldn't be 3 months before the next update? i clearly cannot be trusted. (motivation for this fic comes and goes so thanks for bearing with me)

**Author's Note:**

> huge thank you to veronicahague for not only betaing this for me but also for letting me complain about my MANY STRUGGLES with it in general! <333


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